


Are You A Kidnapper? (Because You Abducted My Heart)

by 707



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abduction, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-14 01:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 64,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5724097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/707/pseuds/707
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If you don't stop we're never going to leave this room," Lexa pants, biting back a groan. "And I swear I will like you even less if Cage gets angry at us again."<br/>"Mmm..." Clarke agrees, licking down the smooth expanse of Lexa's stomach. "Too bad you already hate me, right?"</p><p>or</p><p>the Abduction AU where Clarke and Lexa are wildly attracted to each other, but have too much pride to admit it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School

The 7 AM alarm blares throughout the room and Clarke groans audibly before lazily flipping over and slapping her hand on the snooze button. Heaving a sigh, she wonders how the entire winter break had managed to flit by so fast. It seems like just yesterday when Clarke and Octavia had ambushed Raven as she stepped out into the snow cluttered yard and all three of them had fell head first into the nearest pile of snow. She smiles fondly at the memories before a second round of beeping brings her back to reality.

 

Cold winter winds buffet her face as soon as she steps out of the house and Clarke winces at the harsh sting. She hastily makes her way to her car while tossing a “Bye mom!” over her shoulder. School is only a 5 minute drive, but the roads are still clogged with masses of cars. Sitting in traffic, she can't help but let her mind wander.  _Junior year._ It's stressful to say the least. Choosing difficult classes in order to get into med school is a must and just thinking about how much work she has to do gives her a headache. But so far, she's happy at how it's all turning out. She swerves effortlessly into her usual parking space and pushes the door open. But just as she moves to stand, a heavy lump slams her back into sitting position and a tangle of freezing limbs push up her hoodie. The squeal, when it comes, almost deafens her.

 

“I missed you Griffs! You know how depressed I get when I don’t see your pretty face!” Octavia’s muffled voice echoes at her from behind the soft material of Clarke’s sweater. Clarke opens her mouth to protest that they had just seen each other a little less than three days ago. But before she can get the words out, another voice speaks up.

 

“Well look who it is.”

 

Her eyes shoot up to meet warm, brown ones before a wide grin spreads across her face. “Bellamy!” Pushing past Octavia, Clarke falls into his embrace (a warm one this time). 

 

“Haven’t seen you in a while” he states with a lopsided grin when they pulled apart. Bellamy had flown down to a different state in order to try an secure a summer internship opportunity. Truthfully, they had only gone three weeks without seeing each other, but that's still a pretty long time considering how frequently she's around the Blake siblings.

 

“Wow, I see how it is. Spend a couple weeks on vacation with Clarkey and she learns to prefer your _annoying_ and _bratty_ brother over you” Octavia whines.

 

“Don’t let Finn see,” Raven jokes, sauntering over after locking her car with a beep. “Or else he might think y’all are bumpin’ uglies behind his back.”

 

Both Bellamy and Clarke flush and protest. 

 

“I got you babe, who needs Clarke.” Raven ignores them as she wraps her arms around Octavia. They both turn to glower at the other two from their space between the cars. Clarke shrugs and looks away, her gaze landing on the old rickety fence that surrounded what used to be the school garden (it was destroyed during a summer storm and the school had never bothered to fix it). The white paint had almost entirely flaked off and Clarke notes offhandedly that the overgrown shrubs around it look almost like a forest. An odd dark splotch behind the left side of the fence catches her eye and she can just barely make out a shadowed shape through the dense foliage. She tilts her head to the side and unconsciously takes a step forward. 

 

“Clarke? Are you coming?”

 

Her head snaps back to her friends and focuses on Raven who was still leaning casually against Octavia. 

 

“Sorry what?"

 

Raven sighs and rolls her eyes. “Bell asked if you were going to the football game next week. We’re playing Mount Weather.”

 

“Oh yeah, of course.” Clarke mutters distractedly.

 

She had never missed a football game since high school started, mainly because a lot of her friends were on the team. She immediately turns back to the fence, but the figure was gone. Frowning, Clarke rejoins the conversation, settling on the hood of her car. Soon after, Monty and Jasper show up in Jaspers old, rickety truck and Lincoln makes his way over to the group (much to Octavia’s delight and to Raven’s annoyance). He swings a massive bag over his shoulder for football practice after school. Finn arrives last, as usual, running his hand through his floppy hair before pulling Clarke into a kiss. It was customary for the group to meet before and after school since the enjoyed being together, bantering like their lives depended on it and desperately trying get in some hot topics before the school day forced them to part. Today’s topic began when a long-legged brunette turned the corner.

 

“Woah.” Jasper whistled long and low, “Look who got hot over break.” He pulled his ski goggles over his eyes, a method that he says helps him ‘scope out the chicks’ without getting caught.

 

“You did not just check out a gay girl, Jasper.” Octavia says pointedly. 

 

“And not just any gay girl. Lexa Woods? Are you crazy? If she isn’t a girl, I’d beat her up for all the shit she’s done to Clarke.” Finn mutters.

 

“I heard she has cooties.” Monty inserts helpfully.

 

“But hey, you gotta admit, she’s got one hot bod. If Clarke didn’t have such a rough history with her, I’d so do her," says Raven, smirking. Then upon consideration: “And even with your guys’ problems, I’d still do her. Sorry Clarke.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively at said blonde. 

 

Clarke had spun around immediately when Finn had said _her_ name. Clarke spots her instantly (she almost always does) and rolls her eyes at Jasper's comment about how she had changed over break. The only thing that was different was her hair, which she had chosen to let down instead of braid. She takes in Lexa’s silky, brown curls, her effortless and regal posture, and how her jeans seemed to hug her legs in all the right places. It makes Clarke’s blood boil. 

 

She hates the perfect black eyeliner that only Lexa could pull off.

 

Hates the leather jackets that became a signature look.

 

Hates how proudly Lexa walked through the halls even though it was apparent that _nobody_ likes her.

 

Hates how lazily Lexa would address her and the shivers that ran down her back when Lexa said her name, rounding out the “r” and clicking her tongue on the “k” as if she were the most popular girl at school and Clarke was the loner.

 

And she just hates  _Lexa._ But she could never get rid of her because of their family history.

 

The Woods and Griffins were co-founders of Ark Medical, a huge hospital just under five miles away from where they lived. The girls’ fathers grew up together not far from each other and were best friends since high school. Their parents were in the same Biology class at the college that all four had attended and they've been inseparable ever since freshman year. Needless to say, Clarke and Lexa had basically been forced to spend time together since birth, as the parents hoped their children would be just as close.

 

Clarke thought they couldn’t have had worse children to fit their expectations.

 

 

//

 

 

_“Get UP, Lexa! You’re crushing the whole thing!” Clarke whispered furiously, grabbing onto Lexa’s forearm, attempting to physically drag her up._

 

_Lexa snatched her arm away from the blonde’s grip quite easily (much to Clarke’s annoyance) and simply flipped over, ignoring her._

 

_“I swear to god Lexa, this is for your baby brother and you’re ruining it before he’s even out of your Momma’s tummy!”_

 

 _Lexa cracked an eye open and faced the blonde, taking in her appearance. She took in the messy hair, flushed cheeks, eyes flashing with anger and a little watery from frustration, and the panting from attempting to reach over the bars of the crib to grab at Lexa. Even at age 7, Lexa thought she was beautiful. And indescribably annoying. Clarke never stopped unless she got what she wanted, a trait that constantly gave Lexa headaches. The blonde princess would babble continuously until Lexa’s self control withered and she snapped at her. It always made Lexa look like the bad guy and she couldn’t seem to find exactly what ticked her off._ _It could be the bright blue eyes that flashed like a silent storm. Or the soft blonde curls that the other girl impatiently pushed away so that they wouldn't distract her from her speech. It distracted Lexa. A lot._

 

_Clarke was still trying to get her out of the crib and Lexa pressed herself against the bars farthest from her._

 

_“Get over it Princess, he’s not here yet is he? So it’s mine for now.” Lexa drawled out as she scratched her stomach and yawned._

 

 _They were both still in their pajamas. It was Christmas Eve and the girls were too excited to go back to sleep so they had snuck out of the room that they were forced to share (“Ew gross! I’m not sharing with her!”) to try and puzzle out which presents were theirs. At least, that was the plan until they passed the usually vacant room set aside for Lexa’s baby brother (due mid-January, Clarke remembered Lexa’s mother saying) and discovered that there was indeed something_ _in the room._

 

_Lexa had squinted into the darkness, “Is that—” Moving silently across the room they discovered that it was a crib, and a rather large one. Large enough to fit her, Lexa decided, before she jumped in and wobbled around, clutching at the bars for stability. It was quite comfortable at first before a certain blonde started hissing and spitting at her._

 

_“I told you why, because you can’t make it all dirty for your brother!”_

 

_“It’s not going to be dirty, I’m clean.”_

 

_“No you’re not, my mom says that everyone is dirty no matter how nice they smell. They have tiny worms on their body.”_

 

_“Worms?" Lexa says, wrinkling her nose. "I don't have any worms. Besides, are you saying I smell nice?”_

 

_“Lexa!” Clarke whispered exasperatedly._

 

_“Yes?”_

 

_“Get OUT!”_

 

_Their struggling got dirty when Lexa accidentally moved her elbow too fast and whacked Clarke in the nose. Suddenly, she felt a weight drop on her stomach and knock the wind out of her. She spluttered and pushed against the mass furiously. Blonde masses of hair caught haphazardly in her mouth and Clarke’s cheek squished against hers._

 

_“Clarke, get off me!”_

 

_“I can’t, it’s too wobbly.”_

 

 _Lexa grumbled loudly before grabbing the bars and hoisting herself up. But their pushing and shoving sent her tumbling out of the crib. Desperately trying to anchor herself to the spinning world, she grabbed at one of the thin bars which broke off with a resounding crack. She slammed into the ground and_   _bursted out crying. Clarke started panicking._

 

_“Lexa! Shhh, be qui—”_

 

 _But it was too late. Three sets of lights simultaneously turned on as the adults awoke from the racket. Jake was the first one to the room and the light that flickered on illuminated Lexa on her back next to the broken crib, sobbing uncontrollably and Clarke clutching her nose sitting in the middle of ruined, blood-stained sheets._ _Abby and Christian, Lexa’s dad, were hot on his heels and as soon as Abby took in the scene, her eyes hardened._

 

_“Clarke Griffin, you get out of that crib right now. Look at the mess you’ve made, Lexa’s parents only bought their crib yesterday and you’ve already managed to break it.”_

 

_“B-but—” Clarke stammered incredulously looking towards Lexa who was clutching her wrist and smirking at her from Jake’s lap._

 

_“No arguing.” Abby sighed, walking towards Clarke and inspecting her nose. She turned to Christian and now Alena who had slowly made her way to the room, hand supporting her growing belly._

 

_“I’m sorry. I thought I had taught her better.” She said apologetically._

 

_Christian smiled.“It’s nothing to worry about. We were all kids once.” He shot a mischievous wink towards the girls._

 

_That Christmas ended with a fractured wrist, puffy eyes, and a beautiful new tea set for Lexa. And a broken nose, wounded ego, and a burning hatred towards a certain brunette for Clarke._

 

_That night when they had parted ways, Clarke sat warm and comfortable under a pile of sheets wondering why, despite the trouble Lexa had gotten her into, she still felt warmth in her chest when Lexa shyly offered her a piece of Christmas candy._

 

_And why she felt a twist in her gut when Lexa’s face fell after she had knocked it out of her hand._

 

 

 

//

 

 

 

“Here she comes.” 

 

Lexa forces herself not to whip her head up like a lost puppy.

 

“Lexa.” 

 

She lifts her head up (slowly, she chides herself, slowly) and her eyes meet with blue and gray. Clarke stands impatiently in front of her, tapping the desk corner. Neither says a word as they take in each other. It has only been three weeks, but Clarke already looks different. Lexa stares at her new jacket, the healthy red glow to her cheeks, and eyes the fading bruise peaking out under her light gray shirt. The stand in silence for a long time, taking each other in and Lexa wonders briefly why Clarke hasn’t said anything yet. (In truth, she was about to, but she got distracted by the new scar above Lexa’s eyebrow.) Anya smirks from beside them and picks up her things to go work with Tris. Shifting uneasily, Lexa wants to protest, but she can't seem to tear her gaze away from the girl in front of her.

 

“Yo Blondey, I’m leaving. You can take my seat and finish this… discussion you’re having with Lexa.” Anya say, biting on her lip to keep from laughing. Lexa narrows her eyes, but doesn't look away from Clarke. _Bitch._ They would talk about this later.

 

Clarke clears her throat and breaks their staring contest as she glances towards Anya.

 

“Thanks.” The girl nods curtly.

 

As if freed from a spell, Lexa's eyes wander around the class. She watches as Clarke plops into the seat next to her, impatiently tucking a blonde curl that had escaped her messy bun behind her ear. She turns away to stop herself from staring at her again and a movement through the classroom window catches Lexa’s eye. She squints to make out what it is. A figure that resembles a hooded man looks back at her from under the shadows of the tall oak trees surrounding campus. Lexa leans closer to get a better view and frowns when she loses track of where it is. _Must have imagined it,_ she thinks, shaking her head. 

 

“So we’re partners. Again.” Clarke states, snapping her focus back to the classroom and meeting her gaze with a sigh and a hint of annoyance. 

 

(Lexa feels an unpleasant tug in her chest which she passes it off as the aftermath of an intense lacrosse practice.) 

 

"Only for like the fourth time in this class. Getting tired of me already?”

 

Clarke scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Let’s just get to work, Lexa. We both know I do more of that than you.” Lexa shrugs, not denying it.

 

“But I spend twice the amount of time correcting your mistakes than you do on the entire project.” She smirks. Clarke flushes angrily. 

 

“That was one time!”

 

“But if I hadn’t corrected you, you would’ve burned my whole house down.”

 

“Please, the wing would’ve snapped first so stop being such a drama queen.”

 

“Mhm, so you would’ve broken it, and let all our hard work go to waste?” Lexa raises her eyebrows and her voice drops a few octaves. She leans closer to the blonde enjoying how it makes her squirm in her seat.

 

“Watched as our plane crashed…” 

 

She leans closer. 

 

“burned to the ground…” 

 

Closer. 

 

“converted into a pile of ashes…”

 

Closer still.

 

“and did nothing to stop it…” 

 

Her face is inches away from Clarke’s as she drops her voice down to a whisper.

 

“Because you were too proud to admit I was right?” she asks quietly.

 

She watches with a hint of satisfaction as Clarke’s throat bobs and the girl shifts back a fraction. Nameless emotions are swimming in the blue orbs in front of her and she revels in the way that Clarke seems to be speechless by her for once, instead of the other way around.

 

“Well…” Lexa leans back suddenly. “Wouldn’t be the first time you broke something in my house, right?” She smirks as Clarke glances down at her lips briefly before the anger sets in. 

 

“Lexa Woods-” she hisses, eyes narrowed and teeth bared. Lexa can't help but notice that even out of her mind in anger, Clarke still manages to be insanely attractive. To be honest, it's probably her favorite part about the girl (not that there were many likable parts to begin with)-- flashing eyes and bright cheeks. Luckily for her, the blonde is saved from what would've been a week of detention or possibly suspension by her ever-present boyfriend.

 

“Leave her alone, you ass.” 

 

Lexa rolls her eyes not so subtly as Finn wraps his arm around Clarke’s shoulders. 

 

“We were just discussing the project.” Lexa says flatly. 

 

“No. I know exactly what you were trying to do.”

 

“And what’s that?” Lexa raises her eyebrows.

 

 “Clarke doesn’t need some antisocial lesbian like you trying to get in her pants.”

 

Anya is back by her side in a flash as Lexa’s eyes darken. 

 

“You’d better go back to your seat, pretty boy,” Anya growls lowly, invading his space. 

 

Finn’s posture stiffens, but he doesn’t back down. “Or what?” 

 

Anya pushes closer and grabs him by the collar. “Or don’t expect to be wearing your crotch guard to next week’s game 'cause you won’t need it.” She snarls.

 

Finn doesn’t miss a beat. “I’d rather be dickless than gay like Lexa.”

 

“Finn!” Clarke warns the same time Anya clenches his collar tighter.

 

Anya looks just about ready to smack his head off with her lacrosse stick when the bell rings loudly. Finn smirks in triumph and flips them both off as the teacher obliviously writes down the homework problems on the board. Anya pushes him away from her roughly and stalks off to retrieve her things. At the same time, Lexa slams her book shut and swivels around so her back was facing the couple. She didn’t expect Clarke to defend her after years of only having Anya, but Finn’s words still sting. Behind her she hears them conversing.

 

“…Okay, okay. But please don’t do it again.”

 

“I’m not afraid of her. And she was insulting you! Why are you just going to let her?”

 

“It’s- I-”

 

She doesn’t stay for the excuses.

 

 

 

//

 

 

 

_The class bursted out laughing and Lexa’s face burned._

 

_“She can’t even talk. Are you dumb, Bush Head?” Murphy jeered from the opposite side of the room. “Man, I bet your brain feels as good as new ‘cause you never use it!” The class went hysterical again and Lexa’s vision began to blur._

 

_Tears trickled down her cheeks._

 

_“Oh God, you’re too easy Woods.” Murphy snickered wiping his nose with his shirt collar._

 

_The teacher was outside, explaining to Gustus why bringing his Husky pup to school was strictly prohibited. Lexa looked around the room for help, but Anya was a year older. She was alone. Panicking, Lexa pointed towards a pretty, blue-eyed girl in the front of the class who had just gotten a new haircut. “I-it’s not just me, sh-she also likes princesses.” The class went silent and every head turned towards where Lexa was pointing._

 

_Emboldened by their silence, Lexa went on, “She even has pink princess sheets.” She sniffled and wiped at her eyes, waiting for their reaction._

 

 _“Clarke?” Murphy asked, scrunching his eyebrows._ _Clarke, who had felt confident with her new haircut and flower hair clip, found herself under the inspection of thirty three sixth graders who were all trying desperately to fit in. She gulped and glanced at Lexa._

 

_Lexa who still had tears streaming down her face._

 

_Lexa who had helped her choose out her favorite set of bed sheets._

 

 _Lexa who was_ right _about her interest in Disney princesses._

 

_Her heart fluttered indecisively. Lexa was her friend and it made sense to defend her, but that would mean sacrificing herself. She opened her mouth to reply._

 

_But then the kid who sat next to her, Jasper, laughed nervously and put his sweaty hand on her shoulder. “Naw, she’s not into that stuff, right Clarke?”_

 

_Lexa watched Clarke hesitate and felt a flicker of hope. But then Clarke clenched her jaw and raised her chin determinedly. Behind eyes still clouded with tears, Lexa watched with horror as Clarke made her decision._

 

_“No.”_

 

_Half the class murmured in relief and the other half gave out small cheers. Lexa ducked her head in defeat._

 

_“See. Nobody likes you. You’re alone.” Murphy spat nodding his head, like he had known it all along._

 

_The class continued conversing now that her torture was over. They seemed to be uninterested, immediately crossing her off their “potential friend” list as if her entire worth was based on whether or not she enjoyed watching Disney princesses._

 

_From that day on, Clarke was invited into the popular gang at school, and Lexa fell to the bottom of the social ladder. Clarke learned about belonging. She learned that she didn’t feel any happier than she did before cute boys took interest in her and pretty girls wanted to be her friend._

 

_Lexa learned how to push everyone away._

 

 

 

//

 

 

 

“Lexa we need to talk, you can’t do this to me again.” Anya bangs impatiently on the stall door. 

 

“Please Lexa,” she pleads, “you can’t do this to _you_ again.” 

 

Behind the closed door, Lexa slides to the ground with closed eyes and sighs. “Go away.”

 

“No.” Anya growls, punctuated by a particularly strong shove at the door. “You can’t keep pushing everyone away, it’s not fair. I’m not going to leave you, do you understand? So get the fuck out here you squirt.”

 

She is met with silence on the other side.

 

“We’re going to miss the game,” she tries again, looking towards the heavens for help. “I can’t do that to Gus again.”

 

“You go. I’m not going this time.”

 

Anya’s jaw hardens and she plops on the ground. “Fine, then I guess we’ll both have to buy him a bucket of chocolate fudge ice-cream and apologize for missing his big moment.”

 

“Anya,” Lexa sighs, leaning her head back against the wall. She undoubtedly feels guilty at making Anya miss her boyfriend's big game. “Just go.”

 

“This is about what happened a week ago isn’t it.” Anya ignores her. “Clarke. You know she’s a bitch if there ever is one. You've never let her bother you before. I don't see why you have to start now.”

 

Anya frowns. Ever since the skirmish in the classroom Lexa has been acting differently, avoiding Anya at almost every turn. She knows that this is Lexa’s way of coping, but Clarke and her fight all the time (actually she has never seen them have a civil conversation), and Lexa always comes back with a fierce glint in her eyes, face flushed, and determined. She knows she shouldn't be thinking this, but Clarke brought out a passion in Lexa that she has never seen in her before. This time, though, Lexa had locked herself away barely spoken to Anya and after a week, she had enough. Why was this time any different? And there was a beat of silence, but then Lexa’s voice echoed through the bathroom stall, weaker than usual. 

 

“This was the first Christmas our families didn’t spend together.”

 

Anya exhales softly in relief. She's talking, which is a huge improvement from last time Lexa shut her out.

 

“What, did you miss her,” she snorts, laying down on the ground with her backpack as a headrest. She knows very well that Lexa complains after every (and she means every) winter break for at least a week about how Clarke’s hair clogs the drain, Clarke sings terribly, Clarke seems to have no respect for privacy (Anya didn’t miss the blush at this one). 

 

Clarke Clarke Clarke. Annoying, loud, obnoxious. 

 

But Lexa doesn’t reply and her eyes widen. She shoots up from the ground. 

 

“Are you seriously telling me that you’re upset about spending one winter break away from _Clarke?”_ She asks incredulously. _“_ The same girl that made fun of you for over ten years. Your sworn enemy. Your arch nemesis. Your—”

 

“Anya.” The firmness in Lexa’s voice is back and Anya slumps back. Good. She is going to snap out of whatever this is that came over her.

 

“We're not enemies. We're... friends... that hate each other. It’s just that, I thought she would change. Spending Christmas with the Griffins is routine and I thought she would at least, I don't know," Lexa waves her hand struggling to come up with the right words. "...feel the difference? It felt odd for me not to be annoyed over Christmas, or angry, or just… Ugh. Anya, I must be going crazy.” She finishs dejectedly.

 

Anya grunted in affirmation. There was no other way for it to make sense. (Well, only one.)

 

“I’m just tired. And damn it, I know this is stupid, but it feels like no one cares. My dad’s so busy, my brother’s nine, my- my mom-” There's heavy breathing on the other side of the door and Anya knows from experience that there will be no tears hitting the tiled floor. Lexa is strong like that. And sometimes she has to remind herself that no matter how strong Lexa is, she's just a normal girl. Frustration takes over and she's knocking at the door again.

 

“Open this door right now, Alexandria Woods, or I’ll break it down.” Anya threatens. The rickety stall quakes in a way that erases all doubt from Lexa's mind that Anya will stick to her word. “You hear me? I’ll break. It. Down.”

 

The lock clicks and the door isn’t even completely open before Anya is squeezing her way past it, wrapping her arms around the prone figure who is slumped against the wall.

 

“Get the fuck up, Lexa. This is not who I taught you to be.” She hauls the curly-haired girl up so that she was away from the wall, grabbing onto her arm as she totters unsteadily. Then, piercing her with a steady stare she says, “You know after all this time I thought you would have learned to trust me. It makes me angry that you keep blocking me out because I care. I will always care. Fuck everyone else.”

 

If she wasn't sure about it before, now there was no doubt in her mind that Anya would be her best friend until the day she died. She makes a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and lurches forwards, clutching at Anya’s black jacket. Her arms wrap tightly around Anya’s waist.

 

“Okay, okay. I know you’re in a very emotional state, but I still don’t do hugs. And. You’re killing me, I can’t breathe.” She says, voice muffled by Lexa’s hair. But her arms encircle Lexa just as tightly. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

Lexa lifts her head up.

 

“We can still catch the tail end of Gus’s game. That way we don’t have to spend money on ice-cream. I don’t know about you but I don’t have too much of that to spare.”

 

Lexa laughs and allows herself to be led out of the stall.

 

 

 

//

 

 

 

The parking lot is already packed when Clarke arrives. She has to circle twice before Raven reaches over from the passenger side, honks the horn, and bats her eyelashes at some random boy that is already parked. Using a honey sweet voice, she asks if they can take his spot. Usually the trio is met with no resistance, but the guy hesitates. Raven’s grin turns slightly feral as she leans out the window and pushes the bottom of her chest against the glass. The poorboy stutters and stares, eyes going wide as he scrambles for his keys. Clarke rolls her eyes as he backs out in record time. 

 

“You can’t keep doing that. It’s practically illegal.” Octavia says, sympathetically looking after the retreating car of the boy. 

 

Raven smirks in her direction. “I’m sorry, did you want to keep circling the lot while your boyfriend’s out there scoring touchdowns?”

 

Octavia makes a face, but says no more as Clarke slides into the vacant parking space. The stadium is already packed with blue and white bodies on one side, red and black on the other. The game had started fifteen minutes ago and Ark High is already down. 

 

“Clarke!” The blonde’s head shoots up, immediately scanning the crowd on the bleachers. 

 

“There.” Octavia points and Clarke follows her finger to Monty who's jumping up and down and waving beside Miller, Murphy, Harper, and Jasper (who has his entire face painted blue). The trio bounds up the steps towards their friends. The benches are full but Murphy shoves roughly at the group sitting next to them. 

  
“Yo, get out.” He says to the boy in front of him, lazily jabbing his finger over his shoulder. “My friends are here.”

 

The boy looks at him incredulously. “What? We were here first!” 

 

Murphy takes a step towards the boy and seizes him by the collar. “Do you have _any_ idea who you’re talking to? Get. The fuck. _Out._ ”

 

The struggling boy’s face visibly blanches and he nudges the girl accompanying him away from Murphy. After the boy’s entire group moves, Octavia, Raven, and Clarke settle comfortably in their spots. Usually, Clarke’s entire group got their way without resistance. A freshman boy, Jackson, had made the mistake of arguing against Clarke’s financial plan during an ASB meeting early in the year. As a result, Finn, Murphy, Atom, and Wells cornered him in the bathroom and dunked his head in the toilet until he had agreed to, no begged for, Clarke’s allocation of the student funds. Then they beat him up with a wooden bat in the back parking lot for good measure. News of the incident spread and the students learned quickly that the group, dubbed “Clarke’s Group” was not to be messed with. Clarke shifts uneasily at the boys’ use of violence and threats to get what they wanted, but never speaks out. _That's what friends do right?_ She would later find out that it's wrong, but now? She swallows and tells herself that it makes perfect sense. Next to her, Octavia’s frown tells Clarke that she disapproves of the cruelty as well.

 

They watch the game intently, cheering whenever Ark scored. The game is an intense one, with both teams barely making their plays and constantly getting blocked by their rivals. Somewhere in the third quarter, Mount Weather High calls a time out just after Ark scores, bringing their score to a tie with the other team. Clarke looks over at her friends, smiling in excitement. Raven and Octavia are laughing at Jasper’s reenactment of the touchdown and even Murphy is smiling a little. Clarke sips contentedly at her drink. (Murphy took it for her without paying, but she secretly slid the girl a five, hoping it was enough.) She had barely put it down when a leg stretches out and knocks the cup over in her lap. Cold liquid seeps through her jeans and Clarke gasps in shock. 

 

Murphy is on his feet in seconds. “Hey, you did that on purpose didn’t you!” He shouts, grabbing roughly at the offender’s arm. Clarke is too busy re-capping her drink and moving away from the spill to see the other person.

 

“I'm sorry. It was an accident.” A cool voice washes over her and Clarke’s head shoots up. Lexa is fixing Murphy with a level stare, Anya a short distance behind her. 

 

Clarke’s anger flares, but quickly dissipates as she takes in Lexa’s appearance: slightly slouched (any other person probably wouldn’t have noticed), hair messier than usual. Clarke feels a small pang of pity at how tired Lexa sounds.

 

“Murphy.” She says cautiously. “I’m fine. Just let her go.”

 

She ignores how Lexa raises her eyebrows in surprise. Murphy growls in protest and his grip tightens to the point where it looks like it could bruise. The gears in Clarke’s mind are spinning rapidly and her heart rate picks up. She needs to find a way out of this situation without:

 

  1. letting Murphy hurt Lexa
  2. wounding Murphy’s ego
  3. turning Murphy against her



 

“It’s like you said,” Clarke throws out, “It wouldn’t be a fair fight since she’s a girl, right?” Not that she believes it, but she hopes it is what he wanted to hear. 

 

Murphy frowns indecisively and Clarke’s voice softens. “Please Murphy. It’s okay.”

 

After a long moment of hesitation, the boy’s grip reluctantly slackens. As soon as she is loose, Lexa whips around and marches across the bleachers. Anya follows wordlessly, shooting Murphy a glare as she goes.  _Rude._ Clarke thinks with a frown. After all, she did just save her from a fight.

 

“You let her win this time and she’ll think she has a chance against us.” Murphy spits coldly, breaking her out of her thoughts. Despite his angry words, he sits down next to her and uses the towel Finn gave him to dry up the mess. His hands are gentle as they press the towel onto the fabric of her jeans. The game was tied up until the last two minutes when Bellamy delivered a particularly well-aimed throw to Lincoln, who never failed to disappoint. As soon as the ball lands in Lincoln’s hands, he flies towards the endzone and rolls smoothly into bold ‘ARK HIGH’ letters. The crowd goes wild.

 

“Yes!” Octavia screams, jumping up and down. “That’s my boy!” 

 

The buzzer sounds signaling the end of the game and Octavia tears down the field, wrapping one arm around Lincoln and the other around her brother. Raven chuckles, but goes after her, offering the boys a hug of her own. The rest of the crowd begins deserting the field as the players celebrate. Mount Weather hangs their heads and shoots the victors dirty looks before filing back into their bus. Clarke scans the field, subconsciously looking for brown curls and rich, green eyes. But her vision is blocked by Finn who jogs up to her and pulls her into a hug.

 

“Hey Princess,” he pants, his sweaty face rubbing against hers. “I saw you cheering.”

 

Clarke smiles. When she first met Finn, he came off as arrogant and basic, but as the years went by, she began to see his sweet and charming side as he wooed her with chocolates and flowers and his talks of going out into space and exploring the stars. Despite the way he treated some of the other Ark students, he had never treated her poorly which is why she hesitantly agreed to go out with him at the beginning of the year. 

 

“You coming to Bell’s for the after-party?” He asks, kissing her cheek lightly.

 

“Mm. Yeah, give me a moment, I need to use the restroom.” She wants to change into the sweatpants Fox threw her after she spilled her drink, and the school bathrooms are going to be closing soon.

 

Clarke gives her boyfriend one more kiss before heading towards the stalls. She glances again at the departing crowd and feels a tug of disappointment when the person she is looking for is nowhere to be found.

 

 

 

//

 

 

 

Anya is off the bleachers the moment the buzzer sounds, stalking determinedly towards her boyfriend. Lexa smiles lightly when she sees them kissing under the stadium lights. She follows warily.

 

“So I was just telling Gus that we almost didn’t come.” Anya shakes her head playfully at Lexa.

 

Gustus laughs and smiles warmly at Lexa. “This one’s difficult isn’t she.”

 

“Yep, a pain in the ass most of the time.”

 

Lexa chuckles at that. “Well, I didn't have enough money to buy you ice-cream again so I guess I had no choice.”

 

Gustus pouts convincingly. “And here I was thinking you were excited to see me for once.”

 

“Not a chance.”

 

He puts a hand to his chest and tries for a hurt look, “Oh Lexa, you wound me so.”

 

Anya laughs heartily and Lexa offers a smile of her own. She notices Clarke’s crowd closing in on Bellamy and Lincoln and watches as Finn wraps his arms around Clarke and kisses her. Clarke is smiling and Lexa tears her eyes away, glaring a hole into the turf.

 

“Hey squirt. We’re going to get some ice-cream, you coming?” Anya grins with her arms around Gustus.

 

Well… her report for English isn’t due until next week. And she wants to push of the project with Clarke for as long as possible.

 

Lexa finds herself nodding. “Just give me a minute, I need to use the restroom.”

 

“Okay. We’ll wait for you by the car.”

 

Lexa dips her head in acknowledgement before jogging towards the girls’ locker room.

 

She lifts her head to the sky and feels cold drops of rain splatter on to her cheeks. Before she is even halfway across the field, the drizzle had thickened to a steady patter. Just like that the storm started. 

 

 

 

//

 

 

 

The stall door closes with a bang behind her and she turns on the sink. Cold water trickles through Clarke’s fingers, numbing them further in the winter air. The locker room is completely dark save for the single light above her head illuminating the conjoined bathroom with an eerie, white light. Clarke clutches the edge of the sink with the hand not holding her ruined jeans and stares at herself through the dirty school mirror. She makes a face at the dark circles under her eyes that reflect back at her. Clarke had lost a significant amount of weight to added stress from hard classes and extracurriculars in just the first semester of junior year. It didn’t phase her. She did what she had to do in order to pursue her dreams and make her parents and her friends proud. A blue hairpin glints in her hair. She had gotten it for her birthday last year. Clarke usually avoids it at all costs since the first time she tried to wear it, the annoying thing had sliced open her finger. She had yelped in pain and sent Abby running, but she wore it today since it was added to the spirit (Ark’s colors were blue and white). Rustling and footsteps interrupt her inspection and Clarke turns abruptly to face the bathroom entrance. The rustling stops and Clarke feels a sudden rush of fear. She inches backwards and holds her breath, heart pounding in her chest. 

 

“Who’s there?” she stutters out. No reply.

 

Her free hand grabs at the janitor’s mop left leaning against the wall as a shadowed figure approaches the entrance. For the first time in forever, Clarke wishes Murphy is here to protect her and her heart rate spikes knowing that none of her friends are even remotely near. She raises her weapon and prepares to attack. Just as muddy converse and wet blue jeans step into the light, Clarke brings the broom down, realizing halfway through who it was before attempting the soften the blow. The broom still lands on its intended target with a _Twack!_

 

“Ouch!” Lexa hisses in pain and reels back clutching her head. “Clarke!? What the hell was that for?”

 

“Oh God,” Clarke rushes forward, dropping the mop and her jeans on the ground with a plop. “I’m so sorry Lexa!”

 

Lexa is still stumbling back and Clarke reaches forward to steady her. 

 

“Are you OK?” Worry knots her eyebrows together. When the only response is groaning, she gently pries at Lexa’s fingers.

 

“Let me see.” Clarke insists, straining to get a better look. But Lexa jerks back with a growl.

 

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough already?”

 

Irrational anger (considering it _was_ her fault) surges forward in Clarke.

 

“What’s your problem? I’m only trying to help!” Clarke says angrily, voice rising as her gut twists unpleasantly and her mouth hardens to form a line.

 

Lexa reels back from the noise. The volume of the outburst sends her already throbbing head spinning and she winces in pain. The movement catches Clarke’s eye and concern wins over Clarke's stubborn pride. Her voice softens immediately. 

 

“I'm sorry. Lexa, please, let me see.” She moves forward again and grabs the taller girl’s wrists gently. This time there was no resistance and Lexa’s hand drops from her head hesitantly, revealing the beginning of a nasty bruise just above her left eyebrow. Clarke lets go of Lexa and presses gently on the purpling patch of skin. The injured girl flinches back with a cry. 

 

“Sorry, sorry.” Clarke murmurs apologetically before hauling her back by her belt loops. Her fingers trace over the brunette’s face until she is sure that the girl did not have any other injuries, and then they begin to wander. She hadn’t noticed how close they were before, too distracted by Lexa’s bruise. Now, she traces over Lexa’s jaw line, thumbing the space under her high cheek bones. Clarke could (begrudgingly) admit that Lexa is probably the most attractive human being she has ever laid eyes upon, but she never got close enough without the other girl complaining about her breath, or how cold her hands were (oops), or how she probably didn’t wash her hair, or another part of Clarke that Lexa claimed bothered her to no end. 

 

(Clarke wondered where the nonstop swallowing and the adverting of eyes fit in, but decided it was probably just Lexa being the weird and frustrating person she was.) 

 

But Lexa isn’t pulling away now, probably because she is still dazed from Clarke’s unexpected attack, and Clarke continues. She notices with a strange satisfaction that Lexa’s features are much more sharp up close. Her eyelashes look longer. Her eyes are much more rich and intense, making Clarke's mouth go dry. Somehow, Lexa’s eyes are still exactly the same as from far away, but like someone had turned up the saturation dial on her photo editing app. And her lips. They're full, a pretty pink color. And they look very, very soft. 

 

“Clarke?” Lexa mumbles when Clarke’s fingers linger, still a little disoriented. 

 

Clarke shakes her head and steps back, taking deep breaths to clear her head.

 

“It’s okay, you don’t have a concussion.” She concludes, not meeting Lexa’s eyes. “You’re going to be fine.”

 

And apparently she is because as soon as Clarke finishes speaking, Lexa rolls her eyes.

 

“Peachy. I don’t suppose this headache was a part of being ‘fine’ as you so put it.”

 

Clarke makes a face. “It’ll fade.” She glances behind Lexa. “So are you going to introduce me to the friend?” She juts her chin towards the shadowed shape she had just noticed.

 

The moment Lexa’s eyebrows furrow and she starts spinning around, Clarke knows something is wrong. The figure is a good half-head taller than Lexa, who is already considered tall for a girl. It's also a lot more heavily built, like a football player almost. 

 

“My wha—” Lexa turns and time slows for Clarke. The figure moves towards them at an alarming pace and Clarke’s eyes widen. She lurches forwards, but her body feels like it is moving through syrup.

 

“NO! LEXA!” She hears herself scream as the figure steps into the light. Clarke grabs Lexa’s arm, attempting to haul her back, but the man’s fist connects with the side of Lexa’s head, sending her sprawling to the ground. Still grabbing her arm, Clarke is yanked down with her and when Lexa didn’t get up, Clarke scrambles back frantically. She grabs for the mop. The attacker, dirty blonde and in his late 20s, anticipates her move. He dives on top of Clarke, crushing the air out of her lungs. Big, meaty hands muffle Clarke’s screams and cut off her air flow. Her fingers are just a few inches short from the mop and she stretches towards it desperately. But black spots swim in her vision and the need for oxygen wins out. She gives up on the broom and instead grabs the attacker’s forearms, pushing at them feebly, but deep down she knows it's already too late.

 

The last thing she remembers are hard brown eyes and a cruel smirk before she passes out on the cold bathroom floor.


	2. Van

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ಥ_ಥ + (▰˘◡˘▰) = this chapter

_The summer before high school started, Jake Griffin took Lexa and Clarke camping._

 

_Lexa fell in love with her newfound freedom, how pretty the blue sky was decked with strings of white and gray._

 

_How she could run along the bank of the river, water splashing cool and pleasant against her ankles._

 

_How the forest rustled with life even as the sun melted along the horizon, shooting streaks of color into Lexa’s world._

 

 _At sunrise every morning she would stand at the top of the cliff they were camped near and take deep breaths of chilly mountain air, feeling as if it returned to her a part of her soul she never knew was lost._ _Lexa had never been camping before and with Jake’s patient and reassuring guidance, she enjoyed every minute of it._

 

_Well. Maybe not every minute._

 

_“Can we take a break! I’m so tired!” Clarke whined._

 

_“Come on, sweet pea.” Jake said, suppressing a grin. “Our last break was five minutes ago.”_

 

_Lexa rolled her eyes. It was only a three mile walk along the river to get back to their camp and they had already taken four breaks._

 

 _"_ _Alright. I’m going to take a bathroom break,”Jake announced eyeing Clarke's exhausted form with concern. He dropped his bag on the dirt and turned towards the woods that stretched along their right hand side. “You two stay here, get hydrated, and don't go too far, okay?” The edge of the woods was still a distance away and he jogged off._

  

_At the mention of ‘break,’ Clarke had immediately dropped her backpack and plopped down on the edge of the trail._

 

_“It’s so hot.” Clarke groaned, covering her face with her hands._

 

 _Lexa shifted uncomfortably. Though she made no verbal agreement, the sweltering gusts of summer wind left an unhealthy amount of dirt on her exposed skin and sticky sweat tracks ran all over her body._ _She dropped her bag as well and moved to take off her shirt; underneath she wore a thin tank top, not one of Lexa's top picks, but it would have to do for the moment.  When her hands reached for the shirt bottom, Clarke’s eyes widened and she stuttered out, “What are you doing?”_

 

_“Taking off my shirt.” Lexa said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, missing the way Clarke’s body tensed. “I’m not about to die of heatstroke now that I’ve dealt with you for three whole days.”_

 

_The shirt came off without further inquiries, revealing healthy bronze skin and smooth muscular arms. Clarke let out a small breath, mouth falling open. It was at times like these that she had to remind herself how much she hated the other girl and how she absolutely did not feel any sort of attraction to her at all. Not one bit. But when Lexa used the dirty shirt to wipe off some of her sweat, rag dragging against her skin roughly, muscles rippling as she moved, Clarke decided that a little staring technically wouldn't be against the rules. Or a little drooling._ _Lexa turned suddenly to face her and Oh God. Clarke could honestly swear that Lexa was doing this on purpose. Sharp collarbones protruded deliciously from the grooves under her neck. Skin, shining with sweat and streaked in places with dirt flashed as she shifted. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a halo around the girl, sinking into Lexa's right shoulder as if even it could sense her beauty. Clarke felt a tug in her chest, a painful longing for something that she didn't understand. Lexa's eyes connected with hers, a color that did not exist on the color wheel and one that she could not find the words to describe._

_She was still staring when Lexa's eyebrows furrowed and she waved her hand in front of Clarke's face._

_"What? Sorry I uh-" Clarke took a deep breath. "What were you saying?" She snatched her bottle from her bag, her throat suddenly feeling dry. She drank deeply, wrinkling her nose when unpleasantly warm water sloshed in her mouth, leaving a bitter aftertaste._

 

_"Um, I forgot." Lexa looked at Clarke weirdly. She bit her lip and after some obvious hesitation, she asked, "Were you just checking me out?"  
_

 

_Clarke spluttered and choked on her water, coughing violently into her sleeve. "What?" She asked incredulously, wiping at her mouth. "Are you crazy? No I was just... The view behind you is nice." The tips of her ears colored, giving away her embarrassment._

 

 _Lexa turned to look behind her and Clarke realized her mistake. The land was piled with rough and uneven dirt, cracked from being just a hint too far from the river to reap its benefits. It was barren save for a solitary bush that clutched at the ground, desperate for any amount of water it may reach. The trees hung low, leaves scorched from the burning temperatures and the river itself was moving rather fast today, transforming the water into floods of dull white and an undertone of brown. There was nothing evidently "nice" in the scenery and Lexa turned back, a slow smile forming on her face._  

 

 _"Uh huh." She said stalking closer to Clarke._ _"It is a very nice... bush. But I don't see how it could possibly interest you."_ _Lexa stopped just under an arm's reach from her._ _"Or is there something exotic about dying bushes behind attractive girls?"_

 

 _Clarke growled, mostly in embarrassment, and launched up from where she was sitting. She glared at Lexa who was still grinning widely. "You're so full of yourself. I do_  not _find you attractive. In fact, you're really_   _annoying and I was definitely not_ -" _her eyes dipped down to Lexa's mouth and she swallowed, "definitely not checking you out." She finished resolutely. It wasn't her best, but it was enough to wipe the smile off of Lexa's face._

_She pushed in towards Clarke, frowning. "You know, sometimes you should try being honest with yourself." She said quietly. "Because then you'll realize how full of shit you sound."_

 

 _Clarke gawked, momentarily stunned, but she recovered quickly. "There's nothing to be honest about because I. Am. Not. Attracted to you!" Clarke told her, moving even closer and jabbing a finger at Lexa's chest._ _Their faces were only inches apart and she was having trouble focusing on the argument when Lexa shifted towards her._

 

_"Oh yeah? Then why couldn't you stop staring at me just five minutes ago?"_

_Clarke threw her hands up in frustration. "I was staring at the bush!"_

 

_"The BUSH?" Lexa says incredulously._

 

_"Yes, the bush!"_

 

_"That sad thing you see there," Lexa gestured wildly towards the bush. "It can't even be called a bush!"_

 

_"It has leaves, it has branches, it's a bush!"_

 

_"That's purely subjective." Lexa began, back straightening and shoulders settling into place. Oh no. Clarke knew what was coming next._

 

_"No! Don't you start, Lexa!" She hisses. Too late._

 

_"The formal definition of a bush is a low and densely branched shrub." Clarke groaned._

 

_The other girl ignored her. "By calling that," Lexa pointed accusingly at the bush, "a bush, fits neither the term 'densely' nor the term 'low'."_

 

_"Lexa!" Clarke gritted out covering her ears. She looks around. There's got to be some way to make her shut up._

 

_"It's obviously not a bush because it has like, two branches!_ _Do you not hear how ridiculous you so-" That's it. Clarke grabbed Lexa's chin roughly and surged forwards, crashing their lips together._

 

Oh. Okay. Definitely the right choice. _The first thing she noticed was that Lexa tasted bitter, but also a little sweet, kind of like grapefruit, and she sucked greedily at her lips, trying to memorize the taste. Clarke noted with a jolt that Lexa wasn't moving her lips, or rather, wasn't moving at all. She was already pulling back when, finally through with her initial shock, Lexa's arms encircled her body and hauled her back. When she kissed her, mouth pushing against Clarke's roughly, it was angry and fast. Clarke moaned and pushed back, slamming her hands against Lexa's shoulders. Her hands trailed up and firm fingers wrapped around Lexa's neck. Clarke could feel her pulse, pounding away against her fingertips, fast, erratic, not at all like something that belonged to Lexa. She felt teeth bite into her lower lip and gasped at the pain._  Oh no you don't! _S_ _he furiously pushed her tongue into Lexa's mouth and dug her fingernails into the soft curls at the base of her neck in answer. Tongues clashed in a whirlwind of anger and fire._

 

_Lexa growled and the arms encircling her waist tightened possessively, pressing their bodies even closer together. Her head tilted to fit her lips better with Clarke's and she lapped eagerly into her mouth. It was hot and desperate and just as suddenly as it had started, it had ended. Clarke shoved roughly against Lexa's shoulders and her arms loosened. Lexa stumbled a few steps back, frantically trying to distance herself from the blonde in order to prevent herself from kissing her again. Both girls were panting heavily and flushed, trying to clear their minds of the other._

 

_"I shouldn't have done that." Clarke muttered, just as Lexa mumbled, "That can't happen again."_

 

_Their eyes connected and Clarke offered a small, tight-lipped smile. Lexa lifted her chin and nodded, throat bobbing._

 

 

_//_

 

 

When she regains consciousness, the first thing she notices is that the ground beneath her is moving. 

 

She tries to sit up, but another jolt sends her tumbling and she groans. “What…” Her hands are bound tightly behind her and she is in the trunk of a van. Darkness engulfs her surroundings, but a small crack from the boards separating the space she is in from the rest of the van allows a thin column of light to seep through. The limited amount of light prevents her from making any other conclusions and she struggles furiously against the bondages. 

 

“Clarke.” She freezes. But the voice sounds familiar. 

 

“Lexa?” She whispers hesitantly. 

 

“You’re awake," comes the reply.

 

Rustling from the other side of the space draws her gaze. “Where are we?”

 

Lexa shakes her head before she remembers that Clarke can’t see her. “Your guess is as any good as mine.”

 

The car jolts violently again and Clarke yelps as she is sent straight into the side of the van. She hears Lexa’s body slam into the other side and a string of curses that follow. Her legs are falling asleep from being cramped in an awkward sleeping position for so long and she is pleasantly surprised when she finds that she is able to move them. 

 

“How come he didn’t tie our feet?” Clarke mumbled stretching out her legs. 

 

Lexa snorts. “Not enough tape.” She kicks something over and as it rolls past the beam of light to Clarke, she is able to tell that it's the cardboard on the inside of a duct tape roll. “Whoever he is, he’s definitely not bright.”

 

“Great, then we can worry about other things.” Clarke pulls against the tape. “Like how to get out.” 

 

Lexa rolls her eyes into the darkness. “Save your energy. You’ll have better luck knocking him out with your morning breath when he comes to check on us tomorrow.”

 

“He came to check on us?” Clarke asks, eyes widening, purposely ignoring the last part.

 

“Yes. Only once so far.” Lexa pushes herself up. “There is no way out unless you’ve got something to cut. This. Damn. Tape. With.” Lexa punctuated each word with a hard tug before slumping back in defeat, further proving her point.

 

"I do."

 

"Pardon?" Lexa furrows her eyebrows. Did Clarke honestly have scissors tucked up in her clothes?

 

“My hairpin!" Clarke says slowly, the idea formulating in her mind at a rapid pace. "It’s really sharp. Twist around and see if you can reach it.”

 

“Is it the one Abby gave you for your birthday?” Lexa frowns, scooting across the van.

 

“Yeah, it’s on the right side of my face.”

 

Lexa’s shoulder bumps lightly against Clarke’s as she makes her way over.

 

“You’re going to have to lie down. I can’t reach it with my hands tied.” 

 

Clarke leans backwards until her head hit the van floor and says, “Okay, I’m ready.”

 

Lexa rises on her knees and scoots forwards. The darkness makes it difficult to judge where she is going and just as she is about to turn around, the van jolts again, knocking her off balance. She lands with an _oof_ on a warm, soft body, face buried against… Oh God. Lexa whips her body away, but the rumbling van makes it hard for her to move. Her face burns in embarrassment and she thanks the universe for creating nighttime so that the girl underneath her can’t see the blush.  _Really._ _Get yourself together Lexa._  She shifts around, but getting around Clarke is so much more difficult than she expects without her hands to support her. 

 

“Lexa,” Clarke groans weakly. 

 

“Sorry, sorry.” Lexa frantically moving her legs, hoping to get enough stability to roll off of her. The jolting van made it impossible. She moves with renewed force when the van runs smoother. But Clarke gasps and groans again, and she stills her movements.

 

“Am I… Am I hurting you?” Lexa asks softly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. She can feel Clarke’s shallow, uneven breaths on her cheek.

 

“No,” Clarke whispers, voice airy with a lilt that Lexa has never heard before. “It’s just…” 

 

Clarke moves the leg that is between Lexa’s and rolled her body. Her thigh pressed firmly against Lexa’s crotch and Lexa gasps at the sudden pressure. Clarke’s lips press against her cheek and Lexa feels the hot breath the she exhales graze her ear. Clarke’s thigh moves again and she she closes her eyes as waves of pleasure roll through her. _Shit!_ She has to restrain herself from bucking her hips forwards in search of more friction because the pressure is suddenly gone and Lexa’s head clears slowly and then all at once. Oh. _Oh._ So the whole time, Clarke hadn't been hurting. She had been—

 

“Oh…” Lexa gulps. Her face burns into the darkness again and she doesn’t have time to think about how she would’ve begged for Clarke to finish her off right there because the van slows to a stop.

 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Lexa mutters. Now that the ground beneath them isn’t moving, her task is a lot less difficult and Lexa rolls off Clarke with a single, huge heave. 

 

“Let’s try this again.” She scoots back until her hands hit soft waves of hair. 

 

“Left, yeah there and then forwards…” Clarke is tilting her head and directing Lexa at the same time until Lexa’s fingers knock against the pin. She fumbles for it and it slides smoothly out of Clarke’s hair, scraping her palm in the process.

 

She winces. “Why would your mother get you this. Knowing you, you’d probably kill yourself with it before you’d wear it properly.”

 

Clarke shifts. “Yeah well, I’ll be glad she did if you can cut through that tape.”

 

Lexa angles her wrist so that she can saw at the tape and a small cry of victory escapes her as it finally cut through after repeated efforts. She rips the remaining pieces off her hands frantically and massages her wrists to get the blood flowing again. “Christ, it’s basically a knife.” She mutters. 

 

Clarke shifts impatiently. “Just hurry up and do me.”

 

Lexa’s raises an eyebrow, “Well usually-”

 

“Lexa!”

 

She searches for Clarke in the dark and grabs her arm before feeling her way down to the tape that binds her. She starts to cut the bondage, but then the car door slams and a voice is heard through the trunk. Lexa speeds up, but it's obvious that she won't be able to cut through before the man arrives. Her fingers are sore from moving the pin back and forth yet still she continues.

 

“Lexa.” 

 

“Yes, Clarke.” Lexa clenches her jaw in concentration.

 

There is a beat of silence before she hears a small voice.

 

“Please don’t leave me.” 

 

Lexa freezes. Clarke’s voice echoes in her head which spins wildly. Terrifying memories make her stomach lurch violently and her heart fall. She purses her lips in determination and continues sawing.

 

“I won’t.” 

 

 

//

 

 

 

 _They were squatting at the river’s edge. Since the trail itself was elevated from the river, they had to carefully slide down a steep, rocky stretch before reaching the bank below. The shoreline was piled with black rocks and the river sped past, crashing haphazardly into the bank at every turn._ _Lexa sat quietly beside her, staring into the roiling water. The air between them was tense following their kiss and Clarke was desperate to change it. Looking around, she suddenly had an idea. Smiling mischievously at the other girl, she dipped a hand into the stream (noticing with alarm, the power tug of the current) and flung a handful of water straight into Lexa's face._ _It worked. Lexa spluttered and reeled back, letting out a cry in surprise._

 

_“Clarke Griffin.” She warned, wiping water out of her eyes. “You did not.”_

 

 _Clarke reeled back squealing as Lexa reached down with both hands and heaved. Cool water came raining down all over her. Giggling, Clarke leaned towards the stream, prepared to retaliate. T_ _hen rock below them shifted violently and a_ _ll hell broke loose._ _With a thunderous crash, it toppled into the river and Clarke and Lexa were launched into the air._ _As soon as Lexa hit the water, she felt the panic kick in. It wasn’t just cold, it was freezing. Moving her arms and legs frantically, she pumped herself towards shore. But the current was strong and it was steadily carrying her away. She gasped and coughed as cold water berated her senses._

 

_“Clarke!” She screamed twisting her head around frantically. “Clarke!”_

 

 _The water was pounding against her body, tumbling, roiling, tossing her in all directions. Never in her life had she ever felt this helpless. This out of control. Moving and spinning in ways that made her dizzy._ _Somewhere in the thunderous mess, Lexa heard her voice._

 

 _“Lexa!” Silence._ _The river dragged her under._

 

 _Her body continued moving downstream at a dangerously fast pace and the oxygen in her lungs was fading rapidly._   _In the foam and murk, she reached out desperately, water sucking her down, down, down. Against the force of the stream, the continuous rumbling, Lexa felt so small. Her lungs were bursting and she struggled to hold her breath for longer. Just as black spots began to dance in front of her eyes, her arm miraculously caught onto a branch. Scrambling to get ahold of it, Lexa pulled herself back up, spitting out water and sucking in deep breaths. The branch in hand hand was part of a tree that was anchored to the shore not far from her._   _Holding onto it took all her energy as the current pulled insistently on her body. She scanned her surroundings for Clarke and thanked the gods for toppling part of the old tree into the river. A short drift downstream and she would’ve crashed into a row of jagged rocks jutting out of the river like sharks’ teeth._

 

_There was no way to survive that. No way._

 

 _So this is it, Lexa thought, eight years of hell at school, fourteen years of torture with Griffin, and this was how she died. Some fate. She noticed dully how she didn’t even have the energy to cry._ _Suddenly, a bulge in the river caught her eye. It was Clarke and the current was pushing her towards Lexa. Brilliant. So now, not only did she have to die, but she had to die with the person she hated most._   _Lexa mentally rolled her eyes, not having the ability to do so when the harsh river spray kept them squinted. She could reach out and grab the struggling girl, but that would have to take planning so that she grabbed her at exactly the right time using exactly the right amount of energy. Her grip on the branch faltered as she thought it through._ _She shifted towards the end of the branch and readjusted her grip, watching as Clarke drifted closer, rounding a bend that would bring her right into Lexa. Okay, ready._

 

_Three._

 

_Two._

 

_One._

 

_Lexa made a mad lunge and grabbed the flailing Clarke. She was immediately attacked by the other girl’s limbs that moved madly against the current._

 

_“Clarke! Stop it, it’s me!” She shouted over the noise._

 

 _Clarke spluttered and coughed as a particularly strong crash of water tugged at the two. Lexa’s grip slipped momentarily lurching them dangerously towards the rocks before she closed her fist around the branch once more. The river dragged her body downwards and she spluttered as dirty water entered her mouth._   _A particularly strong current burst past the branch and Clarke was wrenched away from Lexa, but the blonde managed to grab onto her hand._   _The extra force sent part of the tree careening dangerously towards the river and the branch Lexa was holding onto bent, cracking slightly. Clarke’s added weight was too much. Panic seized Lexa again and she knew she had to make a decision._

 

_Clarke, as if reading her thoughts, begged, “Lexa, please don’t let go. Don’t leave me. Please.”_

 

 _The branch bent further._ _Clarke sobbed and struggled, clutching her hand tighter._

 

 _The branch strained under their weight._ _Lexa looked from the branch to Clarke to the rocks that would surely be their death._

 

 _The base of the branch cracked._ _Lexa was never selfish, but the panic that clutched her mind made her head spin and her heart beat erratically. She thought of her father, eyes rimmed red and hair turning white. Her brother, not too young to understand anymore. How they could not suffer another death in the family without breaking. Not again._

 

_“I’m sorry Clarke.” She squeezed her eyes shut._

 

_Lexa’s grip slackened._

 

_“Wait, what? Wait…” Clarke gasped. But it was too late, her fingers slipped through Lexa’s and Clarke was claimed by the current once more._

 

_“NO!” The blonde screamed as whirls of foam wrapped around her body like serpents, dragging her down into their lair. Lexa’s chest tightened and she scrambled to hold on. She tried to drag herself to shore, but the water rush by at such a fast pace that it was essentially a wall. For a minute she thought about letting go. Her body exhausted and her arms ached. She wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer._

 

 _Just as her fingers began to loosen, two things happened._ _She felt a tug and a strong arm wrap around her waist propelling her out of the water and onto land. Then she heard a splash as her rescuer dived back into the river. D_ _azed and exhausted she faded in and out of consciousness. The sun shone down on her freezing body, a light that was too bright, but never before so welcome. A strange buzzing sounded in her ears reflecting the numbness that spread through her body._   _She heard muffled shouting. It was getting closer._

 

 _“Lexa! Lexa, look at me.” The world spun back into focus before drifting out again. Jake was cupping her cheek lightly, drenched in mud and river water. Worried gray eyes pierced into her own._ _Lexa tried to sit up and felt a wave a nausea forcing her back down. Go back. She wanted to say. I left her there. I left her there to die so that I could live._ _She coughed violently, the convulsions wracking through her body._ Please. I wanted so badly to save her. I did, Jake. _She squeezed her eyes shut as pictures of blood and a broken body ran through her mind._

 

_“Clarke,” was the only thing she managed to croak out._

 

_“She’s safe,” came Jake’s gentle reply. “You did well, Lexa. Now rest. I called the Ranger’s Station. They should be here soon.”_

_Lexa wanted to laugh. Wanted to cry. Here she was, broken and battered, useless, cruel for letting Clarke go. And she was getting praised for it. Life had a twisted way of punishing her._

 

_…_

 

 _Later when they were wrapped in warm towels, dry and comfortable at the park ranger’s dwelling, Lexa could finally feel the warmth trickle back into her body. In her hand she held a cup of hot chocolate and she and Jake sat side by side next to the fire. They were welcomed to spend the night at the station and accepted the invitation graciously._ _Lexa had recounted her whole story tiredly on car ride to the house (excluding the kissing, of course). After a series of inspections, Clarke was estimated by the local doctor to be awake and ready to go by next morning. Jake had gotten to her before the current had smashed her to pieces, a feat that the baffled ranger stated was ‘indeed, very lucky, indeed’. She was sleeping in a room down the hall, curled up and fragile when Lexa had come to check on her._ _Night had fallen and the firelight softened Jake’s features, making him look tired, older than he actually was. A towel was draped around his shoulders and his hair was still damp from his shower. Man and child sat in silence, sipping their drinks._

 

_“It was my fault.” Lexa finally said, breaking the silence. “I- I told her the water was safe. And then when we fell in, I left her.”_

 

_She squeezed her eyes shut, fear making her stomach clench uncomfortably. She expected the worst: yelling, blame, even being completely cut off from the Griffins; it was all possible. But none of those things happened. Instead, a warm arm draped over her shoulders and pulled her into his side. Her eyes flew open in shock._

 

_“You did what you could, Lexa. Sometimes we’re fated to watch people die and we can’t do anything about it. You were scared and alone. What you did, grabbing her when you could have just let her go, that was brave. And it was enough. You made sure that she wasn’t already dead on those rocks before I could even try to save her, so thank you.” Jake leaned down and placed a kiss gently in her hair._

 

_It wasn't so much the shock that had her fighting back tears, but rather the amount of emotions suddenly sweeping through her. Relief, gratitude, and so much love. She closed her eyes again to stop her tears from overflowing._

 

 

//

 

 

The car door creaks and Lexa hastily shoves her hands behind her back before twisting around to face the door. A column of light flashes in their faces as the man points a flashlight into the trunk. Clarke is momentarily blinded before her eyes adjust.

 

“Lookit you, Blondey, finally awake.” The man says. “I was worried that your girlfriend here would’ve gone rogue on me without you.” The man says with a smirk. 

 

On her left she sees Lexa shift and grumble. The man steps into their space and inspects Clarke, grabbing her chin roughly and tilting her head to the side. Lexa growls and the man turns to look at her, snorting before letting Clarke go. "Ain't that bad. Thank god too. Orders were that you two needed to be alive."

 

Then, he reaches behind him to retrieve something in his back pocket and Lexa tenses. But it's just a walkie-talkie.

 

“Sir, I’m at the checkpoint, requesting further access.” the man speaks into it. The reply is instantaneous.

 

“Well done, Emerson. Have you got both of them?”

 

“Yep. And one of them is quite a fighter.” Emerson replies, eye drilling into Lexa’s. “Nearly kicked me out of the van first time I checked on her.”

 

Clarke turns to Lexa and narrows her eyes. Lexa shrugs.

 

“Yes,” the line crackles as the voice chuckled humorlessly. “That one’s the lacrosse player. Bring them both to me.”

 

Lacrosse player. Clarke’s mind begins running a million miles per hour. She flips through memories of countless games Lexa had played in and of all the times she was forced to watch. They know about them so that means that this isn’t some random pick-up. This was planned. Emerson and the light withdraw, closing the door with a bang and Lexa and Clarke are engulfed in darkness once more. As soon as the engine starts, Lexa springs up and continues sawing at the tape on Clarke’s wrists. With a satisfying snap, Lexa pulls the last quarter of the tape apart. Clarke immediately brings her hands forward and shifts her aching shoulders. 

 

“They know about us, Lexa.” Clarke states, turning to face Lexa. The sliver of light that escapes from the front of the van is enough for Clarke to make out the other girl’s general shape, but nothing more.

 

“Did you get into a fight with anyone recently? That voice didn’t sound familiar to me at all.” Lexa murmurs, deep in thought.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clarke is arching an eyebrow. “I don’t get into fights.”

 

“No, but your group does.”

 

“My group?” Clarke asks, bristling. Is Lexa honestly blaming her for their situation?

 

“Clarke. This is no time to be angry. Did you or did you not see anything special happen recently.”

 

“I-” Clarke frowns. “No, the only thing that happened was…” She trailed off in embarrassment.

 

Luckily, Lexa catches on quickly and she doesn't need to continue.

 

“That thing with me.”

 

“Yeah. About that-”

 

“Let’s not talk about it.” Lexa interrupts rather harshly. She find herself thanking the darkness again when it hides her frown. “We need to get out. The car’s moving too fast, so when it slows, we open the door, jump, and make a run for it.”

 

“And where will we go?” Clarke tries not to think about how Lexa avoids her previous topic. “We don’t have any idea where we are. Or how to get back.” She unknowingly mirrors Lexa’s pose and leans against the wall opposite to her. 

 

“We’ll figure it out.” Lexa says resolutely. 

 

“Ok. So what do we do now?”

 

A flash of light from the gap illuminates Lexa’s green eyes, gleaming at her in the dark.

 

“We wait.”

 

 

//

 

 

“This is taking way too long. Where are we even going? It feels like we’ve been in this car for an entire day already.” Clarke moves around the trunk anxiously.

 

“It takes as long as it takes.” Comes the cool reply.

 

Clarke wants to scream. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Lexa. Infuriatingly calm and collected, never talks to Clarke about her life, avoids participating in drama at all costs. If Lexa sits any stiller, Clarke is sure that she can pass off as a statue. Sighing, she starts banging on the van again. 

 

“Hey! Let us out!” Clarke shouts. “I need a bathroom break!”

 

No reply and Clarke keeps banging. The noise attacks Lexa’s injured head like a thousand knives.

 

“Clarke!” Lexa says through gritted teeth. “Stop it. You’re killing me.”

 

“He needs to know that we aren’t just going to sit here and wait for him to kill us. If I die, I don’t want to die uncomfortably with a full bladder.” She continues banging. “Hey!”

 

_That’s it._

 

She shoots up and grabs at Clarke’s wrist. Darkness makes it hard to judge where Clarke is so she grabs her hand by mistake. Clenching her fingers around Clarke’s forcefully, Lexa furiously whispers, “We’ve only been on this van for two hours since he last came to check on us. And in this two hours you’ve managed to complain nonstop, kick me in the shin, and make enough noise to raise the dead.” Lexa sighs, rubbing her temples warily. “Look, he’s going to stop sometime either for food, water, or maybe even to radio in at another ‘checkpoint’. We just have to _wait,_ Clarke.”

 

Clarke had fallen silent, but starts opened her mouth again when Lexa mentions waiting.

 

“But-” 

 

“No. No ‘but’s. Do you remember the plan?”

 

“I-”

 

“Clarke.” Lexa patience is wearing thin. “I’m going to ask you again: _do_ you remember the plan?”

 

“Yes, I do, but-”

 

Whatever she is going to say, Lexa never finds out because the van stops abruptly, and the engine shuts off.

 

“Quick!” Lexa whispers and scrambling to her position on the right side of the van.

 

Clarke mirrors her movement and crouches on the left side. Lexa’s fingers quiver as she clenches the pin tighter. It is a poor choice of a weapon, but it will have to do. Muffled voices conversing outside can be heard. As they grew louder, Clarke shifts anxiously. Then the door flies open all at once and the stream of sunlight that bursts through is enough to blind Clarke momentarily as Lexa immediately springs into action. Lexa grabs Emerson, who totters back with a cry, and brings the pin down in an arch. It slashes a jagged line down his face and he yells out in shock. The two stumble away from the car and Clarke's body finally responds to her commands. She flies out of the van. This is the part that Lexa had miscalculated. They had expected the man to be alone, but as Clarke jumps down to help, a hand on her arm drags her back and a gun clicks and presses to her temple.

 

“Don’t move.” She freezes. Out of the corner of her eye,  Clarke sees Emerson grabbing Lexa by the neck and pushing her down to the ground. He twists Lexa’s arm behind her back and hands her off to two men in black gear, who chain her hands together with real handcuffs this time. Emerson backs up and wipes at his cut with his fingers.

 

“Crazy bitch cut me.” He says, half in awe and half in disbelief.

 

“I am aware.” A voice says coldly at her ear. She feels handcuffs snap into place around her wrists as well and another set of guards step forward to grasp firmly at her elbows. As she is twisted around, she's finally able to see the other man. He is around the same age as Emerson, she guesses. He's handsome enough, with a sharp jawline, hair clean and swept back neatly, but his eyes are dark and cold. 

 

“Poor delivery, Emerson.” He speaks, eyeing the used up roll of duct tape still in the car. The texture of his voice reminds Clarke of a serpent, slithering and sliding on the ground. It suddenly occurs to her why he had sounded so familiar. _He's the man on the other side of the walkie_. “But we will address that later.” He continues as he turns and snaps his fingers. “Take the girls down.”

 

Down, Clarke realizes, is through a stone entrance, cut cleanly and protruding from the ground. They were standing somewhere in the middle of a forest and as Clarke is pushed towards the entrance, she notices that there is not a single sign of life. No birds, running water, small animals. Nothing. She doesn’t get much time to think about what it means before she is shoved inside the structure. Two heavy, metal doors open slowly as they walked through. Beside her, Lexa stumbles and Emerson kicks her roughly.

 

“What’s the matter. Not feeling in the mood for a walk?”

 

Lexa clenches her jaw, but wisely remains silent. Emerson snickers.

 

The door closes behind her and old fluorescent lights flicker on, bathing the path before them in an eerie green light. They march forwards, the space in front of her narrowing until it cut off abruptly. The grip on her elbows is starting to get painful when they filed into what looked like an elevator, but is actually only a metal crate— very much like a playground fence, but in box form— attached to a simple pulley system. The structure is just big enough to fit two cars, and careens dangerously as they (2 girls, 6 guards, Emerson, and the man in charge) file in. Lexa and Clarke are pressed roughly side-by-side against the crate. Looking down, Clarke can only see a tunnel of darkness and she wets her lips nervously as the crate begins shaking. Beside her Lexa’s breathing quickens and she shifts anxiously. Clarke looks over at her in concern. Lexa’s (self-proclaimed one and only) fear is the fear of heights and Clarke’s stomach churns when she remembers why.

 

The ropes jerk downwards suddenly, sending the crate falling two feet. Besides her, Lexa gives out a startled cry and elbows her guards frantically. She wriggles out of their grip, but is slammed against the cage before she is even able to move an inch. The cage swings at the force of her moving body and crashes awkwardly against the stone walls encircling it. 

 

The leader growls menacingly. “Calm her down!”

 

But Lexa is panicking, panting, eyes wide in fear. One of the guards attempts to restrain her, but she flails around wildly. The guard on the left draws back his hand and Clarke gasps. The guard’s fist connects with Lexa’s face with a crunch and Clarke lets out a choked shout. Lexa’s head flies to the side, but it only serves to anger her as she snarls angrily. Her thrashing, which momentarily stopped with the pain, renews again. Tottering around, the trio sends the cage crashing against the wall again. Cage is barking at them to restrain her. Emerson is shouting something in the background. The chaos of the cage is making Clarke's head spin.

 

“Stop!” Clarke screams, struggling to reach the other girl. The cage is screeching along the wall and another fist connects with Lexa’s jaw. “Stop, stop, stop! Please!” Clarke begs, desperately pulling against the firm grip around her arms. 

 

“I can calm her down!” Clarke yells, and the guard hesitates. Seeing that she had captured their attention Clarke plows on, “She’s just nervous about the cage. I can help, I promise.” The guards look questioningly at their leader. 

 

He marches over and curtly nods his head. The hands at her elbows loosen and she is in front of the thrashing girl in an instant. Lexa is still breathing irregularly and she is shaking like a leaf, eyes glued to the dark tunnel below her. Looking at girl before her, so different from the calm and regal person she usually is, Clarke feels her heart squeeze. She takes a deep breath and enters into Lexa’s private space. 

 

“Lexa,” she murmurs, her voice quiet against the creaks and groans of the pulley. “Look at me.” 

 

Lexa’s eyes briefly dart towards hers before snapping back to the scene below her. 

 

“Lex.” She tries again. “It’s okay, we’re completely safe,” Clarke eyes the careening structure as she spoke. “Don’t look down, just focus on me.” She shuffles even closer so that the tips of their shoes were touching. 

 

Lexa is still transfixed on the endless tunnel and squirming against the guards. The man in charge growls again and takes a step closer. In desperation, Clarke leans forwards and presses her forehead to Lexa’s, forcing emerald eyes to connect with hers. She can feel Lexa’s hot breaths fanning across her mouth and for a moment, she can almost imagine them in the same position, but in a very different situation. It sends heat shooting down her stomach, but this is no time to be distracted.

 

“Don’t be afraid.” Clarke whispers. “Breathe. Match your inhales with mine.”

 

She takes an exaggerated breath and lets it out slowly. Lexa’s gaze flickers down to her mouth and stays. Though she continues shaking, her breathing slows. She is still inhaling nearly twice the pace as Clarke, but each breath is dragging, getting longer than the one before it. Just as Lexa’s pace falls in synch with Clarke’s and Clarke lets out a breath of relief, the cage jolts violently again, the hinges connected to the ropes groaning. Lexa jerks away abruptly with a startled cry. Her breathing hitches and her eyes flicker back down. 

 

"Lexa!" Lexa stomps down on the foot of one of her guards and shoves her shoulder against his ribs. He totters back in shock and momentarily lets go of her with a cry. The cage careens again as Lexa slams against the structure, dragging the remaining guard with her. The cage falls a couple of feet again, sending everyone it in scrambling towards the sides for stability. If the cage broke due to their struggling, Clarke is honestly willing to bet they would all die from the fall.

 

“Handcuffs!” She practically snarls towards the guard that had stumbled back. She pulls against the metal furiously. The guard ignores her and strides towards Lexa with his gun in hand.

 

“No!” The leader barked and the guard freezes. “I need her alive. Unlock her.” With relief, Clarke realizes that he is pointing towards her. The guard closest to Clarke scrambles to reach his keys and his hands shake as he tries to pick out the right one. After a painful (or it was for Clarke) few seconds, the handcuffs around Clarke’s wrists open with a snap. She doesn’t bother to watch where it lands as she flings the metal onto the ground. Two steps and she pushes past the guards and is in front of Lexa again. She cups Lexa’s face and pushes her fingers into the soft curly hairs at the base of her neck.

 

“Shhh, I’m here, I’m here.” She says gently, fingers tilting Lexa’s head up so that their eyes connect again. Lexa stops struggling.

 

Clarke licks her lips nervously. “I know you’re scared that it’s going to happen again, but we’re not her and this cage has probably held more people before than just us. We’re going to reach the bottom soon and we’ll be safe. We’ll be _safe_ , Lexa.”

 

Lexa lets out a shaky breath. She stumbles towards Clarke whose eyes widen in surprise as the taller girl buries her head against her shoulder. Clarke’s arms immediately wrap themselves around Lexa, encircling the trembling girl. 

 

“That’s it. Just close your eyes, it’ll be over soon.” She murmurs encouragingly.

 

It was fairly awkward as the handcuffs prevent Lexa from hugging her back and the cage is still crowded with grown men, clinging to the side of the cage or hovering near the two, but Clarke feels the rise and fall of Lexa’s chest slow down and she closes her eyes as well. The world around them fades and Lexa focuses only on the girl before her. The softness of her fingers, the gentle press of her cheek, how pleasantly their bodies fit together. She doesn’t need to ask to know that Clarke understood exactly why she is trembling and why she can’t possibly stand in this crate for much longer. Lexa inhales deeply against the fabric of Clarke’s jacket, drowning in her familiar scent. She let the warm press of Clarke’s body dull her senses until the whirring of the rope and the creaking of the crate fades into the background. They are lowered for what seemed like hours (actually, it was two more minutes), but the cage rights itself and travels smoothly.

 

When they finally come to a rough stop at the bottom, the impact causes Clarke to totter unsteadily and she opens her eyes. The second her arms fall from around Lexa, handcuffs snap around her wrists again and two firm hands seize her elbows. Clarke rolls her eyes.  _Your welcome. It's not like I just save your asses from falling 600 feet._ Besides her Lexa sighs in relief, but when Clarke looks over, the girl refuses to meet her gaze and Clarke bites her lip in concern. The cage is opened and in front of them stands two more guards laughing and talking. At the sight of them, the one on the right immediately straightens, nudging the other who is slow to understand. Both snap into position as the group makes its way over. 

 

“Sir,” they murmur, nodding their heads slightly. 

 

“We were just… Ah…” The one on the left scrambles for an excuse. The man from the walkie leads the group past them without blinking an eye.

 

“Slacking on duty. Alecki, take care of them.”  A tall and burly guard from their group steps away and they enter through another set of doors.

 

Clarke’s arms are beginning to ache form being pinned back for so long as they turn again and again through the tunnels that they had entered and finally reached the end. The tunnel branches out into a prison. Dozens of cells lined along the pathway and are stacked on top of one another in two layers. Inside were boys, no older than Clarke and Lexa press against the bars and stare at them as they pass. Clarke shivers as they were pushed along a second, better lit and overall more pleasant tunnel that is completely white and shiny. As they walk, it gradually morphs into a hallway. The radio on the man in charge crackles. 

 

“Sir. Your father is awake. Requesting to see you now.” A female voice echoes.

 

“Yes.” The man replies. “Tell him I’ll-”

 

“Cage? Is that you? I forgot about something today. There was a friend of mine who might be able to help us… Eh, what was his name. Joey? Jonathan?” 

 

“Father.” Clarke watches as the man changes. “I’ll be right there. Just give me five minutes, I’m meeting with some… clients.” Cage says gently as he glances towards the girls.

 

“Alright, don’t keep me waiting.”

 

“Yes, father.”

 

They arrive at a door along the hallway and and Cage turns to face Clarke and Lexa. “This will be your new home for now. I suggest you make yourselves comfortable. The facilities and my men are at your service. You may make requests which my men will decide whether or not to fulfill. I will be back shortly.”

 

He makes to leave but changes his mind and turns around. “And don’t try to leave. That will be impossible.” Cage forces a smile that distorts his face rather unpleasantly and walks off.  _Ok? What just happened?_

 

The guards waste no time shoving Clarke and Lexa into ‘their room’. 

 

They are released from their handcuffs (Lexa immediately slumps against the wall) and the others march out of the room. The door shuts behind them with a small snap. As soon as the lock clicks, Clarke is moving across the room and scanning her surroundings. The room is large and barren, consisting of a single white bed, white walls, and a white floor. A small door peaks out from the side and Clarke walks towards it. The knob is golden and turns smoothly under her hand. The room behind the door is a bathroom so enormous that it is almost the same size as the room itself. A bath tub and shower rimmed with golden edges match two delicate sinks on the right hand side. 

 

“Lexa, come here. You need to see this.” Clarke looks at the room in awe. When there was no reply, Clarke swivels around impatiently. “Lexa-”

 

The other girl was still in front of the door, rubbing her face tiredly. 

 

“Hey,” Clarke furrowed her eyebrows as she walked back. “Are you okay?”

 

She stands in front of Lexa, whose back is pressed to the wall.

 

“Let me see your face.” Clarke moves closer. All at once Lexa pushes off the wall and stalks angrily away from her. Her hands drop from her face, reveling another large bruise as she swivels around. 

 

“I don’t need your pity, Clarke! I could have taken care of myself.” She snaps.

 

The sudden hostility shocks her and Clarke shrinks back. Then she rights herself. “What?” she demands, outraged. “You could’ve taken care of yourself how, Lexa? Beating up the rest of the guards and Cage and Emerson? Then what? Breaking your handcuffs and climbing up the ropes?” 

 

The darker haired girl ignores her and instead sprawls across the middle of the queen sized bed at the side of the room. Her dirt-streaked shoes leave brown tracks on the sheets. 

 

“Hey!” Clarke exclaims. “Answer me!” She is striding towards the bed.

 

“What do you want me to say.” Lexa hisses. “That I’m weak because I’m scared?"

 

"What!? I wasn't calling you weak! I don't understand why you're overreacting about this!"

 

"I’m only this way because of _you!_ ”

 

Lexa’s answer hit her like a slap across her face. She is speechless, openly gaping at the brunette in front of her. Lexa shifts uncomfortably in the silence that follows, refusing to look at her. A flood of memories surge forth. 

 

Sweaty fingers clutching rope, voices frantically yelling at her from above. The clasp of her buckle snapping loose as the person who fastened it blanched visibly. Alena, letting herself down and grabbing Clarke’s jacket. Warm hands hoisting her up to safety before they disappeared all at once. Mountain climbing during storm season is never a good idea, but they would’ve been perfectly fine if their guide knew how to do his job. But he didn’t, and her savior fell with a startled yelp. She still remembered Lexa’s bloodcurdling scream as her mother’s body plummeted to the ground. Just like she still remembered Christian’s face as he ran towards the cliff’s edge. Still remembered the ambulances’ wailing sirens as they cleaned out her cuts.

 

Remembered the flurry of action the next months entailed. 

 

Court cases suing the man who fastened Clarke’s belt. 

 

Police investigation of a potential murder.

 

And a funeral for a broken body. 

 

Clarke gasps, finally dragging air into her lungs and coming back to the present. She turns quickly to hide her tears. Not able to stand their current position, she crosses the room silently to the open bathroom door and slams it behind her. The lock clicks. Then, the room is thrown into the silence, but to Lexa, it is shouting at her, berating her for her words. She didn’t even have time to close her eyes before hot tears cascaded down her cheeks, burning trails of regret into her skin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smutty chapter next hmm.


	3. Red Industries

She wrenches the knob to the highest setting and thrusts her body under the spray. Her breathing is coming in short bursts now, lungs struggling to keep up with how fast her heart is using up oxygen. Everywhere hurt, inside, out. Tears blur her sight and mingle with the shower water as it burns her skin to a bright red, but she barely notices. Every single time she tries to be nice, Lexa pushes her away. And yeah they had never gotten along, hell, they couldn’t even have a normal conversation without fighting, but this is the first time that Lexa openly blamed her for Alena’s death. The accusation, like a punch to the stomach, was sudden and crippling, and it left a searing pain in her chest. The burn caused her to unconsciously curl inwards and her legs tremble under her weight. 

 

She knows she can pretend it doesn’t hurt, pretend like she doesn’t care what Lexa thought of her, but deep down she knows it isn’t true.

 

She cares. And it hurts like a motherfucker. 

 

 _It’s not fair._  She slams her hand against the stone wall, eyes blurring rapidly despite her efforts to keep them clear. Through the steam and the spray, she can’t help but notice that this was the first time she has allowed herself to cry since her parents’ divorce four years ago.  _Four years_  and not a single tear. A bitter laugh tears from her throat. The first time she cries in four  _fucking_ years is because of a bushy-haired, infuriating brunette _._ It had taken her by surprise more than anything, but it didn’t make it any less pathetic. Clarke Griffin does not cry over girls (even pretty girls) and if Lexa wants to be angry at her for something that was clearly out of her control, she would let her. But by no means would she be the one to back down.

 

Clarke stays under the scorching spray until she can’t stand the burn, and as the last few tears disappeared down the drain, she wipes her face clean and shuts off the water. She picks up a white fluffy towel lying on the counter and dries off, wincing when the material dragged against her sensitive skin. She changes into a set of clothes folded neatly on the top shelf of the bathroom closet (it was a ridiculously big closet and at this point she wasn’t even surprised) and feels significantly better. Her head is clear and she is determined to break through Lexa’s icy demeanor. It’s been 17 years and she decides that it won’t be another before she got to know exactly why Lexa has such a huge problem with her. That girl is going to open up and Clarke is going to be the one to make her. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she is proud to see how well-composed she looks even though she was barely able to stand just a couple minutes ago. Swinging open the door, she steps outside.

 

As the door closes behind her, Lexa glances up, and her face practically spells out all her apologies, lips pouting, eyes shyly tracing her exposed skin. One of her hands picks nervously at the frayed end of the sheet before her, and it is enough to make Clarke’s heart beat faster, but not enough for her to forgive. 

 

“You can shower now.” The blonde states flatly.

 

Lexa simply looks at her, and Clarke holds her breath. There is something in the brunette’s eyes that is different from before. Would today be the day that they finally moved past all the fighting? But then Lexa opens her mouth, “What if I don’t want to?” And Clarke deflates, rolling her eyes. She honestly didn’t know what she was hoping for.

 

“Well, you’re getting dirt all over my bed.”

 

“This is my bed.”

 

“There’s only one bed so you have to share.” 

 

Lexa raises an eyebrow at this. “Share? Share as in sleep with you.” 

 

Clarke gawks and struggles to maintain her insistent tone as she flushes. 

 

“I- well, yes, as in sleep… with me.” She clears her throat and curses her inability to keep her head clear. Her heart should not be beating this fast. She should be angry for gods sake, not flustered as hell. To prove her point, she drops down on the bed next to Lexa. 

 

“See, we’re even sharing the bed now.” She says rolling her eyes. “So stop being a baby.”

 

Lexa pushes herself up leaving more dirt stains in her wake. She seems to be torn between something, but then purses her lips.

 

“I claimed it first. What makes you think I want to share?” She asks, leaning towards Clarke. Clarke scoffs and crosses her arms.

 

“What are you? A third grader? We don’t “claim” things anymore. We’re sharing, end of story. And as much as I detest the idea as well, we don’t really have a choice.” Clarke gestures towards the empty space in the room, willing another bed to appear without luck. “Now go take a shower.”

 

“I’m comfortable where I am, Clarke.” Lexa’s eyes flash dangerously, taunting her, challenging her to reply. 

 

Clarke presses closer and raises a finger to jab at Lexa’s chest. “So you are, but you also stink.” Lexa opens her mouth incredulously and Clarke pushes forward. 

 

“So if we’re going to be  _sleeping_ together,” She says, narrowing her eyes and reveling in the way Lexa leans back slightly, blinking fast. “I don’t want you to stink up the bed.”

 

Lexa raises her eyebrows. “I stink up the bed? If I recall, the last time we shared a bed was after Thanksgiving dinner when you ate that god awful mess that bio kid Wells brought over. Genes Beans or whatever, and I had to deal with the aftermath of  _that.”_

 

Clarke flushes. “You weren’t exactly hospitable.” She snaps. “You made me sleep on the floor and I had the worst neck cramp ever when I woke up.”

 

“Well it was either that or both of us suffocating in our sleep.”

 

“At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you unfairly lashing out at me.” Clarke says only half-playfully.

 

“And I wouldn’t have to deal with you watching as your  _boyfriend,”_ Lexa spits, “calls me a dyke.” 

 

It got bitter fast, and before they knew it, they were pressing closer to each other, like they always did when they fought. They're explosive, Clarke knows that, but now she can see that they're also helplessly drawn to each other. She can feel the warm breaths that Lexa lets out against her lips, the startling heat of her gaze, and instead of pulling away, she subconsciously leans closer. Lexa is babbling about something undoubtedly insulting towards Clarke, but she had long since stopped listening, distracted by the pretty pink of her mouth. It's torturous, the way Lexa breathes, as if she knows exactly how much air to let out in order to drive Clarke crazy. And from up close, Lexa’s lips look infinitely more tantalizing (not that she had ever thought they look tantalizing before), and Clarke’s heart pounds wildly away. She wonders if they would feel as soft as they look against hers. With a jolt she realizes that Lexa had stopped talking and snaps her gaze up immediately, cheeks warming when she sees that she's caught. Clarke braces herself for Lexa's snarky commentary, but it never comes. The green eyes that bore into hers are unreadable and, surprisingly, slightly unfocused as they trace over her face. She swallows thickly.  _Oh shit._ Lexa’s lips part and the brunette is slowly bridging the gap between their lips. For a second, Clarke thinks that she is going to kiss her, but then bed creaks as Lexa shifts and she suddenly remembers that she was supposed to be angry.

 

Cleared her throat, she scoots back and Lexa flinches. 

 

“Shower. Now.” She says weakly, barely managing to advert her eyes from the other girl’s mouth. She doesn’t sound very resolute, but the darker haired girl pulls back anyways. Unblinking green eyes stare at her intensely, and she suddenly finds herself regretting her outburst as an insistent throbbing begins between her legs.

 

“Fine, but the bed’s still mine.” Lexa gets up, purposely shaking the mattress so that Clarke falls back with a squawk. She doesn’t even have the mind to snap back a reply, her eyes are glued to Lexa’s swaying hips as she crossed the room and slammed the bathroom door shut. The lock clicks and the sound breaks through the haze in Clarke’s mind like a bucket of cold water. She buries her head in her hands with a groan. 

 

_Damn you, Lexa. Damn you and how insanely attractive you are._

 

 

//

 

 

Lexa braces her hands on the counter and glares at her reflection in the mirror. The shower unwound her and the door behind her is safely locked, allowing Lexa to relax. 

 

She was so close to kissing her. So damn close, and that is not acceptable. She needs to be in control of her feelings, which she has no problem doing as long as Clarke is nowhere in sight. Something about that girl, whether it be the blinding smile, or the tiny dimples that blooms on her cheeks, always manages to cause Lexa to lose control, to want more than she can have, and _that_  is dangerous. She clenches her thighs together when she remembers how the blonde had looked at her. How her eyes had darkened. The slight, almost imperceptible tilt of her head, and her lips curling upwards. It drives her crazy. Lexa bites her lip to hold back a groan as she slips her hand under the band of her new underwear and runs her fingers along the most sensitive portion of her sex. Her eyes flutter and her hips buck wildly into the contact. She briefly considers rubbing one out right then before changing into a pair of less… friction inducing pants. But then she shakes her head and almost laughs at the thought, hand withdrawing. Lexa Woods did not tremble on bathroom counters because of pretty blondes. Especially not  _that_ pretty blonde. She wipes her hand on her towel and swings the door open before she can change her mind. 

 

Clarke is already curled up under new sheets reading an old novel and as the door opens, she glances up and their eyes meet.

 

“Where’d you get the book?”

 

“Um, I got it from Alecki.” Clarke cocks her head to one side. “He also replaced the sheets which someone” she glances pointedly at her “ruined.”

 

Lexa frowns and stalks closer. “So he just gave you a book? And I thought you hated reading.”

 

“Not anymore. I guess AP Lang. changed me.”

 

Suddenly, Lexa is struck with how distant they had grown lately. Especially with school picking up and having their own agendas for break, there weren’t a lot of opportunities for the Griffin and Woods families to force them back together. It’s not like they’d ever had heart-to-heart conversations, but Lexa knew Clarke, and Clarke knew Lexa. It was an accepted fact that even Anya acknowledged. Like how Clarke knew that Lexa always rinsed her toothbrush before putting on toothpaste. And how Lexa knew that Clarke couldn’t eat more than two bags of Skittles at a time without throwing up. They knew each other in a way that can only come from spending years and years together. Acquired knowledge. And Lexa felt an unexplainable feeling of sadness that she wasn’t the first to know that Clarke had, at some point, started appreciating literature.

 

“I asked for one to test the system.” Clarke continues, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “You know, when Cage said we could as for anything within reason. But he got me one from… who knows where.”

 

“Is it poisoned? Do you feel any pain? What if there’s something in the pages?” Lexa narrows her eyes suspiciously and grabs it. She holds the book by the corners as if it were a bomb rather than a deck of paper. 

 

Clarke snatches it back quickly. “Actually, he was quite nice.” She glares at Lexa. “He even put the sheets on for me since I didn’t know how.”

 

“Clarke.” Lexa warns exasperatedly. “In case you’ve forgotten, we’re  _captives._ Which means that they’re the bad guys _._ They aren’t obligated to do anything for us without a motive.”

 

“Well, I’m not saying that they are, but at least one of them has proven that they’re not all trying to hurt us. I mean have you seen the closet?”

 

“I have…” Lexa admits, eyeing her new pants warily.

 

“And look at the size of this room. It could fit an entire class.”

 

Lexa follows Clarke’s finger as it briefly twirls in the air and not for the first time, she is forced to admit that Clarke had a point.

 

Clarke continues. “Maybe this is a mistake, like a prank or something.”

 

At that, Lexa raises an eyebrow. “A prank.” She repeats incredulously. “Then this can go down in history as the world’s worst prank. I got knocked out and hit in the head twice, they cuffed our hands together and wouldn’t even trust us to walk into our room, which by the way has like a  _single_ exit. No way, this is definitely real which means we need to be alert in case they try something.” 

 

She scans the room. No more doors besides the bathroom and the exit. Moving towards the walls, she drags her hands across the surface, tracing the uneven bumps that the paint produced. Clarke’s eyes follow her around the room, having long since lost interest in her novel. When Lexa reaches the door, she bangs on it. It was made out of thick, unyielding metal and was cool to her touch.

 

“Hey! Let us out!” She shouts. There is no reply. She lets out a small humph in frustration and reaches for the door handle. Clarke’s eyes widen.

 

“Lexa-”

 

ZAP. A million needles stab into her body from all directions. Lexa wrenches her hand back with a cry and falls to the ground. Clarke is kneeling beside her in seconds. 

 

“Fuck!” Lexa groans, cradling her hand. 

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not enough to kill you.”

 

Her eyes flutter open to find worried, blue ones staring back at her. Soft fingers dance across her wrist and feels lightly across the injured skin. Lexa jerks away out of habit more than anything else, but she immediately regrets it when Clarke’s hands drop away and her eyes harden. The blonde scoots backwards and her lips purse.

 

“Why don’t you ever let me help you?”

 

Lexa blinks. Is this the same Clarke that, after each heated argument, had made it clear how she would never do anything for Lexa ever again? It is easy to pretend that what she felt towards the blonde is hate when the Clarke clearly disliked her as well, but this form of gentleness, the light trail of blush that spreads across Clarke’s cheeks, is new and Lexa finds herself at a loss of words. 

 

“I can take care of myself.” She says, eyes guarded. 

 

“So you’ve said before. But you still get yourself hurt.” Clarke sighs, looking away. “We’ve been together since birth and even shared a cradle for gods sake! But you insist we do everything separately, and Octavia says you even play worse when I come to watch your lacrosse matches.”

 

Lexa visibly blanches at that, but Clarke pushes on. It's probably just shock.

 

“I honestly don’t remember when we started hating each other anymore.” She laughs bitterly. “But I’m just- I'm tired of fighting, Lexa.” 

 

They fall silent, Clarke obviously expecting Lexa to provide some sort of explanation, but Lexa’s head is pounding and Clarke is still too close. Her heart seizes in fear at the thought of Clarke figuring out that the reason she keeps the other girl as far away from her as possible is not because she hates her, but something entirely different. 

 

“You knew about the handle.” Lexa states instead. 

 

“I did.” Clarke sighs, obviously annoyed at her deflection. “I tried to go out by myself to ask for sheets, and it shocked me too. Then Alecki came.” She pauses. “What do they want from us?”

  
  
Lexa watches as Clarke pushes herself up and pads back to the bed, climbing on top of the sheets. As she withdraws, Lexa’s head clears. She stands as well and dusts her hands off, wincing when she realizes her flesh is a bit raw where she touched the door.

 

“I mean they’re obviously not going to kill us,” Clarke continues glancing at their huge room. “So why would they bother kidnapping us? Seems like a waste of resources if you ask me.” 

 

“I don’t know.” Lexa says, eyebrows furrowing. She doesn’t like it when she doesn’t know things, but she has to admit that their situation was confusing. She had never heard of a kind-hearted kidnapper so there must be another reason for their captivity. 

 

“Maybe they want us for our bodies?” Lexa raises her eyebrows suggestively. “I mean, we only saw men.”

  
  
She splutters as a pillow hits her square in the face, and looks over to see Clarke glaring at her from the bed. Her blue shirt is riding up as she stretches and Lexa’s heart lurches. 

 

“Move over.” Lexa demands, striding towards the bed. Instead of complying, Clarke simply rolls onto her stomach and spreads out, purposely taking up more space. 

 

“Nope. You’re opposed to sharing, remember?” She smirks as the brunette’s eyes narrow. “Luckily, I’m going to need all of it.”

 

She is fully prepared for Lexa to force her to move and she clutches the mattress tightly. What she is not expecting is for Lexa to plop straight onto her, drawing a strangled noise of surprise from her throat. 

 

“Okay, guess we’ll have to conserve.” Lexa breathes into her ear. Shivers run down her spine as Clarke swings around and pushes Lexa down. The brunette grunts and rolls to face her as the air is forced out of her lungs. It's just like Clarke to fight her on this-- something as stupid as bed-space. But apparently the blonde has still not forgiven her for earlier because blue eyes flash dangerously at her as she reaches up to clasp Clarke’s wriggling form. The sheets tangle between them and Clarke growls. Lexa has to close her eyes to prevent herself from groaning at the sound. She stops as her stomach coils in anticipation and Clarke shifts to straddle her, kicking the blankets towards their feet. Lexa narrows her eyes and flips them over in attempt to pin the smaller girl down.

 

“You know you’re going to lose.” Lexa pants, grabbing Clarke’s wrist as she spoke. Clarke’s muscles ripple around her as the blonde’s legs wrapped themselves firmly around her torso. The contact is enough for Lexa’s libido to rise in full force.

 

“Not a chance.” Clarke shoot back, smirking and rolling them back around. Lexa opens her mouth to say something, but Clarke is grinding her hips down insistently. She gasps and her grip slackens, eyes rolling with pleasure. Clarke is pushing her hands up over her head, and grinding down again. 

 

“Shit, Clarke.” She begs.

 

Lexa stops struggling, mouth falling open silently, and mind swirling with desire. Little gasps fell from her mouth as the movements message her sensitive clit. Tendrils of wet, blonde hair cascades around them and Clarke’s hips are driving her crazy.

 

A pair of soft lips nip gently at her neck and Lexa's eye widen. She groans quietly. The sensations are on the brink of overwhelming her when all of a sudden, they stop. 

 

They're both panting heavily as Clarke growls, face close to Lexa’s. “I’m still angry at you.” Clarke’s eyes are dilated and Lexa swallows thickly as a flood of lust surges through her. The girl on top of her leans down even further. 

 

“I told you I would win, didn’t I? Now we have to talk about how you treated me unfairly. And.” She pushes Lexa back when she tenses. “What I did to make you hate me.”

 

Lexa lets out a strained groan. “You cheated.” She pants. 

 

“No one said I couldn’t use this,” Clarke moves again and Lexa closes her eyes. “To my advantage.”

 

By now, Lexa isn’t even trying to hide her arousal, openly staring at Clarke, desperate and breathless. Clarke isn’t doing so well either. She was composed until she looked down to find Lexa squirming and moaning because of  _her._ She bites her lip at the sight. Fuck, she's so _hot_. Bit by bit, she feels her self control whither and a small groan rumbles in her throat when Lexa’s chest rubs insistently against hers as they breathe. 

 

Clarke knows she's in the middle of something serious, something grand, but gradually she finds that she can’t remember what it is anymore. And then Lexa licks her lips.

 

_Oh, fuck you._

 

She jerks down and crashes their lips together. Clarke gasps as Lexa pushes back eagerly, groan vibrating from the chest underneath hers. The sound drives Clarke crazy and she pushes closer to the brunette and tilts her head for better access. Her grip loosens and Lexa breaks her hold with ease. Clarke briefly wonders why she had let her pin her down for so long, but suddenly, warm hands are everywhere. Tangling in her hair, moving down her back, cupping her face. Kissing Lexa is like playing with fire. Dangerous and addicting. Hot, heavy touches, wet and so delicious. Lexa kisses her like she has been waiting to do it for years and Clarke fights to keep up. Like all people who play with fire, Clarke is burning. Every inch of her skin is hot, needy, hypersensitive under Lexa’s touch. She moans into Lexa’s mouth as the brunette sucks suddenly on her bottom lip, tongue swiping across the soft flesh.

 

If she didn’t need to breathe, she honestly thought she could keep kissing Lexa forever. And then Lexa did the thing with her tongue, curling it against the roof of her mouth and Clarke sees stars. Yeah, she  _really_  doesn’t need to breathe after all. Her elbows shift to bracket Lexa’s head and when she finally got the right angle to draw out a small whine from the brunette, she smirks in satisfaction. But the need for oxygen is too overwhelming and she pulls away, burying her head into Lexa’s neck and pressing little kisses against the skin while her breathing slows. Lexa’s, however, picks up.

 

“Clarke.” She croaks. “Stop.”

 

Clarke continues downwards and Lexa’s complaints halts abruptly. 

 

A few seconds later, when she manages to pull her thoughts together, she tries again. “Clarke.” Lexa’s fingers tangle with Clarke’s damp hair and she tugs lightly. Clarke’s lips separate from her skin with a small smack and she looks down at Lexa impatiently. Anger and arousal roiled inside her stomach like a beast and the last thing she wants to do was stop. So she pulls back only a tiny bit, just enough so that Lexa can talk without getting distracted.

 

“Um…” Lexa stumbles, still dazed from their kiss and Clarke’s stomach fluttered.

 

She takes in the state of Lexa’s lips, swollen from kissing, and wet with their combined saliva. Lexa clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, but a sharp rapping on the door suddenly sounds through the room. Clarke’s eye widens and she rolls off Lexa so fast that she hits her head against the headboard with a dull thwack. Lexa jerks her body the opposite way. 

 

“Yes,” she calls out, voice two octaves higher than usual. She is scrambling to sit up when the door opens. 

 

It's the bald man, Alecki. “Mr. Cage would like to see you two in his office.” He stands rather awkwardly in the doorway. “You have five minutes to get ready.” He states, glancing at them wordlessly before leaving. Lexa had no doubt that he knows exactly what they had been up to because the door behind him remains wide open. 

 

A short period later, the girls follow him down the hallway flanked by a new set of guards (three on Lexa this time, just to be sure). The hallway twists and turns, pathways intersecting and branching off in a swirling maze. Never once did the guards hesitate to choose a path and Lexa has long since given up on memorizing their turns, fixing her gaze to the ground dejectedly. They stop in front of two white doors which were pushed open by the guards. Inside is a hospital-like hallway. Four chairs are lined up and Lexa thinks that this must be the waiting room. Only Alecki follows them inside, and the rest of the guards stand in a line blocking the door on outside. 

 

“Take a seat.” The bald man demands. Clarke and Lexa obediently sit down next to each other while Alecki knocks gently on the door. Another person, a girl this time, steps out and they whisper to each other quietly. The girl glances at them briefly before shutting it again. 

 

“We will wait. He is still finishing with another.”

 

Five minutes later, the door swings open and the guard that they saw slacking off on duty emerges. He is almost unrecognizable, Lexa realizes in horror. Blue and purple splotches cover his face, complete with cuts and a swollen eye. His partner is nowhere to be found. The man leaves without a word and the girl speaks from inside the room. 

  
  
“He would like to see Clarke first.” 

 

Both heads snap up and the girls turn to look at each other.

 

“We’re going together.” Lexa says firmly. 

 

“I’m afraid that that won’t be possible.” The girl tells her apologetically, reemerging from the doorway. “And I suggest you hurry. It’s best not to keep him waiting.”

 

Lexa clenches her jaw and stands up. “We go together, or not at all.”

 

The girl’s gaze did not waver. “Miss Woods, I believe you are not in the position to make demands.” The girl says sharply. “I would suggest you take the current arrangement, before it changes into something much more displeasurable.”

 

It is a threat if she has ever heard one and Lexa furiously takes a step towards her before a hand rests placatingly on her forearm. 

 

“It’s okay, Lexa. I’ll go.” Clarke says rising. Green eyes met with blue and Lexa struggles to show her the anxiety she felt at the situation, but Clarke tears her gaze away and marches on, head held high. The girl smiles as Clarke entered the room behind her and the door closes behind them silently.

 

 

//

 

 

Lexa can not believe she let Clarke go before her. If anything, she should have been the one who went since she is the more rational one, less likely to explode when frustrated. The waiting room is silent, the walls doing their job of keeping the secrets of the room from Lexa’s prying ears. She paces back and forth anxiously along the corridor. There is no clock in the room so time drags and it feels like it has been hours since she last saw Clarke entering the room. Was it supposed to take this long? 

 

“Patience. They will not hurt her.” Alecki says, leaning against the wall. He twirls a golden key between his fingers skillfully and it is making Lexa’s head hurt as she looks at it. 

 

“And how do you know that?” She snaps. “I thought you were just the errand boy.” 

 

The words are designed to hurt, but Alecki showed no such reaction. As if on cue, the doors open and Lexa swivels around. Clarke is pushed out with guards flanking her. Fresh tear tracks are painted on her cheeks and she is sniffling. Her’s eyes are frantic, scanning the room rapidly until they land on her. 

 

“Lexa,” she breathed, automatically stumbling towards her. “You can’t-”

 

“Quiet!” A guard produces a rag out of his pocket and shoves it in Clarke’s mouth, tying it tightly behind her head within a span of seconds. Clarke yells through the fabric, but her words are muffled and unintelligible and Lexa launches towards her. She had barely taken two steps before Alecki blocks her way. 

 

“You said they wouldn’t hurt her!” Lexa snarls at him. 

 

“She is being detained. There are a few things Mr. Wallace would like to speak to you about personally.” Alecki remains passive, shifting to block her every time she attempts to pass him.

 

The girl reemerges in the doorway:

 

“Lexa Woods, Mr. Wallace would like to see you now.”

 

In front of her, the guards are dragging Clarke away and she is still screaming at her, voice muffled, tugging against the men’s strong grip. Her eyes beg her of something and Lexa scrunches her eyebrows in confusion.

 

“Hey! Let her go!” Lexa pushes roughly against Alecki who clicks his tongue. Guards pour through the doors and run down the hall to where they stood. Lexa barely takes two more steps before they surround her, pushing her back. She see’s Clarke panicking and it sends her into an overdrive. The room turns chaotic and they’re pushing and clawing their way towards each other, but the men are too strong and Lexa’s is tugged away. She is shoved into the girl’s room, yelling for Clarke. Lexa kicks the guard to her left and he grunts, but does not let go and the door closes. Suddenly, she is being turned and shoved into a seat, very much like the ones in the waiting room. 

 

“Let go of me!” She snatches her arm out of the man’s grip.

 

The man grumbles, but withdraws, probably too done with her to care now that the door was closed and guarded. The room in front of her is homely, like a living room. Carpeted floors cushion her feet, dark wooden cabinets spread out, and massive paintings are hung almost haphazardly on the walls. Lexa’s eyes widen as she took in the scene. She is sitting in front of a mahogany desk and on the other side sat her captor. He is staring intently at her, fingers interlaced in front of him. When she meets his eyes, he pushes himself forwards so that he is leaning towards her.

 

“Hello Lexa, it’s about time we had an official introduction.” He murmurs, extending his hand. “My name is Cage Wallace, owner of Red Industries.” 

 

Something about the name flicks a switch on in Lexa’s head and she struggles to grasp onto a distant memory. Cage’s handshake goes unreciprocated, but he smiles nonetheless and glances around the room at their company. 

 

“Maya.” The girl’s head snaps up. “You know the drill, take them outside. I want to speak with this one alone.”

 

Though he is addressing the girl behind her, his gaze never leaves Lexa’s and she glares back at him defiantly. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the figures moving around. Once again, all the guards file out of the room and Maya lingers in front of it before stepping out and closing it behind her. When the door clicks, she immediately feels trapped. Her hand on the armrest is sweaty and she clenches it tighter. 

 

“Would you like something to drink?” Cage says conversationally, as if she were dining at some fancy restaurant instead of being held captive in a poorly lit, suffocating room. 

 

“No.” She grits out, impatiently tapping her fingers on the chair as he pours a drink for himself. He carries on without haste much to Lexa’s annoyance. The liquid is dark and the man takes a sip, sets his glass back down, and reclines back in the chair.

 

“So you might be wondering why you’re here. As you’ve seen, we have no intention of harming you… or Clarke.” At the sound of her name, Lexa automatically growls, remembering how she was dragged away from her and how her face still throbs at the punches Cage’s guards threw.

 

“Excellent job you’ve done so far.” She scoffs bitterly. 

 

Cage stares at her for a minute in silence.

 

“I trust that you are enjoying your rooms?” He asks mildly. It's a blatant challenge and Lexa is unwilling to give him the answer he wants.

 

She says instead, “It’s adequate. A bit too fancy for my taste.”

 

“Your father and I have an agreement,” he tells her, “you are not to be harmed. Therefore you will be given the best, but I would like to offer you a proposition nonetheless.”

 

Lexa’s eyebrows shoot up.

 

“I mentioned before that I am the owner of Red Industries. Do you know what that is?”

 

Lexa frowns as bits of her memories piece together. “Yes,” she says tentatively. “The drug company. You manufacture sedatives for criminals. But recently, you’ve been shut down for mixing in… Korodel…? Kor-”

 

“Krokodil.” Cage inserts. “Yes, once the drugs interact, they make consumers a bit irritated, but-”

 

“You mean it makes them crazy.”

 

She remembers her father and Jake. How they were kept awake many long nights talking over ways to save a patient that had been given the toxic drug mixture.

 

“Yes,” He concedes with a small shrug, “But you missed an important fact. We created Red as a power drug. If used correctly, it can do amazing things.”

 

He trails his fingers along the desk idly. “Let me ask you, Lexa. Have you ever lost anyone?”

 

He asks the question innocently as if he didn’t have a complete file of Lexa’s life in his desk drawer, as if he didn’t already know what they answer would be. There is no verba; reply, but the way Lexa’s jaw clenches is a tell-tale sign on its own.

 

“What if I told you… One dose of Red, and you won’t have to see anyone else that you love pass away for a very,  _very_  long time?”

 

“I would say that you’re crazy.” Lexa spits. Her distrust for the other man is growing rapidly.

 

Cage chuckles. “When we tested the initial stages of Red, we discovered a massive increase in cell reparation and reproduction rates. So massive that for every cell that died, a new one replaced it within a span of a few  _nanoseconds_.”

 

He picks up his glass again and sloshes the liquid inside. 

 

 “One dose and you’ll be able to stop cars with your bare hands. Jump off a six story building and survive. You’ll never need to eat, sleep, all those mundane human necessities.” Cage waves his hand impatiently and leans closer. “You’ll be invincible.”

 

Lexa can’t deny the appeal of his theory, but she had heard of what the drug did to the poor man locked away in the county jail cell. He was so crazy that, when he tried to attack his captives, he didn’t even feel the bullets that tore through his body. A walking zombie.

 

“Did you have a proposition for me? Or did you invite me here for a drink?”

 

Cage sets his glass back down with a smile. Somehow on his face, it manages to look maniac rather than soothing. “When we were in the process of refining Red, our team of scientists were accidentally exposed to the fumes in the chamber that were supposed to be neutralized immediately after the reaction. Out of the fifty men in our team, twelve died immediately, thirty six died throughout the course of two months, and two remain alive. One of the two survivors is my father.” 

 

Cage pauses and frowns.

 

“Here is my proposition for you, if you should choose to accept it. Your father’s hospital is known for having the highest percentage of successful research projects conducted. The day before you were brought here, he and his partner were presented with an old manuscript containing the antidote that has the potential to counteract Red and save my father’s life. They’ve made a test product, called Syzygy, and it is current in lockdown in your father’s chamber.”

 

Lexa watches as he stands abruptly. 

 

“I propose to you a trade: your father’s drug for your freedom. I know you have the code for his lab chamber. All you need to do is tell me, and we’ll let you go home. Right here, right now.” 

 

The gears in Lexa’s mind had already started spinning long before he had finished. As soon as he had mentioned the chamber, she knew something was terribly wrong. She did know the code, but she also knows what the chamber contained. Rows and rows of files, so important that there existed no other copies in the world, and no others were to be made in fear of them falling into the wrong hands. Government defended and otherwise impenetrable, the chamber serves as a reminder of why the Griffin and Woods families could never have a proper vacation without constant calls confirming the safety of the documents inside. Millions of questions ran through her mind. What documents would she be putting in danger if she gave him the code? How does he plan on getting them? How will she know that he’ll keep his word? But instead, she finds herself asking:

 

“And what about Clarke?” 

 

Cage paces towards the cabinets lining the walls and comes back with a small, black device. He clicks on the display hanging beside an old oil painting and the image that pops up is Clarke, nervously pacing around a room that she recognizes as theirs. Her mouth is moving, but the monitor is silent, so Lexa has no clue what she is saying and it dawns on her that they were being watched from the moment they stepped inside the room. Lexa flushes in embarrassment as she remembers what they had been doing not so long ago. She wonders if Cage had been watching and based off of the knowing smirk on his face, she is fairly sure she knows the answer. 

 

“She will be safe here.” Cage states.

 

No fucking way. 

 

“I’ll take the deal if she comes with me.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

 

Something about the it did not add up, like she is missing something important.

 

Lexa frowns angrily. “You wouldn’t need her here after you get what you want. There’s no point in holding her if she’d just be another mouth to feed.”

 

Cage comes closer. 

 

“Clarke is the backup plan. Just in case you give me the wrong code, or my people fail to seize the drug, I’ll use her as a hostage.”

 

Lexa’s mind is already spinning, analyzing the possible outcomes of her situation. If she takes the deal, she would be able to go home today and possibly warn her father of the people that were coming to rob him. The drug is important, Lexa knows that. The fact that it is locked safely into the vault means that it is too dangerous to release to the public. There is only one iffy factor— taking the deal would mean leaving Clarke behind, but she is sure that as long as she is able to get the message back to her father, this place will be swarming with authorities in less than a day. Everything is screaming at her to take the deal, yet somehow it just seems too simple, too easy. 

 

“How will I know that she’s safe?” She demands. After a moment, Cage reaches into his pocket and produces another black device. It is a watch this time and the screen shows rows and rows of numbers she does not understand. 

 

“This number here.” He taps the upper right corner of the screen where a two digit number changes every few seconds. “This is her heart rate. As long as it’s there, you’ll know she's alive.” 

 

She accepts his offering cautiously. The cold metal slips around her wrist and settles against her own pulse. For some unknown reason, she feels calmer knowing she would have some connection to Clarke, however subtle, when they are apart. 

 

“So what’s your answer, Ms. Woods?” Cage smirks.

 

As much as she hated to please him, she can not think of a better way out of their situation.

 

“It’s a deal.”

 

She wonders briefly why the churning in her stomach only intensifies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayy i know i promised smut, but couldn't get to it this chapter ੨( ･᷄ ︵･᷅ )ｼ  
> needed to address plot + didn't want to rush it


	4. Betrayal

Clarke paces back and forth, body vibrating with nervous energy. She is sure that Lexa is currently being pitched the same deal as she had received: give up the codes and go home. And if Lexa takes the deal, she knows that it’s game over. 

 

Because unlike Lexa, Clarke knows who the man holding them captive really is. 

 

Cage Wallace was thrown in a high security jail close to three years ago because he had attempted to use Red as a mind manipulation drug. The patients that he administered the drug to became his slaves, doing as he wished in exchange for more of the addictive substance. The effects of the drug were rampant, ranging from paralyzation to complete control over one’s thoughts. If not for the existence of a counteracting drug, Cage would have unlimited control over any person he chooses, a method of world domination, and Clarke would be damned if she let that happen. 

 

Of course, she had no idea if Lexa was aware of Cage’s background, the other girl was significantly less exposed to the ongoings of their fathers’ work; Christian had closed himself off after his wife’s death. But there was a chance she did know and Clarke slumps onto the bed in defeat. Only time would tell; she would have to wait and see if Lexa came back. Her heart wrenches briefly at the thought of being stranded in the dark maze of rooms alone. Lexa wasn’t cold hearted, yet for some reason Clarke wouldn’t put it past her to leave. 

 

She scoots back onto the bed and rests her head on the pillow. Inside her chest, her heart is still beating steadily. There is nothing she can do but hope, and she knows that that is a dangerous thing. 

 

 

//

 

 

The vehicle roars to life around her. 

 

Emerson turns and smirks. “Like it?”

 

The jeep is a large one and it reminds her of a rabid bull— angry, crude, ugly. Lexa forces her head down in a nod which draws out a cruel laugh from Emerson. “That-a-girl.”

 

Lexa’s face flushes angrily and her fingers fiddle nonstop at the watch at her wrist. They’re bent at and awkward angle due to the thick rope that bound her wrists together. She eyes the upper right corner of the watch warily. Clarke’s heart rate had slowed down and Lexa’s thumb begins to trace circles around the number unconsciously, guilt sitting heavily inside her chest. 

 

“She is important to you.”

 

Her eyes snap up to the shadowy figure that sat across from her. Alecki stares at her moving finger. The back of the car was altered so that the seats were parallel with the sides and there were no seat belts to keep Lexa in place, forcing her to plant her feet on the ground. _I’ll never complain about those lacrosse drills ever again,_ she thought, clenching her jaw as the car swerved wildly. They must be hitting 90 miles per hour, yet the pitch black of the night allowed her to see little beyond the trunks of trees as they swooshed past.  

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She turns away. 

 

Alecki is unfazed by her reluctance to talk and calmly leans back, hands folding together in his lap. The car’s movements did not seem to bother him. “You worry that she will despise you after what you have done.”

 

Lexa’s eye snap up to meet his. They were grey, calculating, but not unkind. A shiver of unease runs down her spine as they gleam at her through the darkness. 

 

“She already hates me, there’s not much more I can do.” It was meant to be nonchalant and Lexa winces at the amount of regret even she could detect in her own voice. 

 

When Alecki remains quiet, Lexa lets out a breath she never knew she was holding. She was secretly relieved that he didn’t choose to ask her more questions because she felt vaguely uncomfortable around his presence, as if all of her carefully constructed walls were nonexistent to him. The car rumbles along swerving frequently and hitting bumps in the road without slowing down. Lexa mentally curses whoever decided to pass Emerson on his driver’s test. He is clearly incapable of driving like a normal person. They were being tailed by at least one other Jeep, its headlights barely contributing to the visibility of her surroundings. Lexa’s mind and body are both exhausted. It had to be past midnight already. 

 

Just as Lexa is about to close her eyes, Alecki speaks up. 

 

“She cares for you as well.” 

 

It’s after such a long time that Lexa has to take a moment to remember what they were talking about in the first place. And when she remembers, Emerson slams on the breaks and Lexa flies to her right, crashing against front seat. A string of curses fly out of her mouth and she rights herself hastily, cheeks burning in the dark when she sees that the shadowy figure in front of her had not moved an inch. 

 

Alecki shifts towards the door and the grips the handle. To Lexa’s surprise, he did not open it immediately. “I hope you have thought this through.” He says quietly. Lexa swallows.

 

_I haven’t, I haven’t at all._

 

She wants to respond to him, but the door was already opening and the ropes around her wrist tugged her forwards into the night.

 

 

//

 

 

It was hard to tell when she fell asleep. She remembers the harsh lines of the room going in and out of focus as the border between consciousness and unconsciousness began to blur. She struggled to keep her eyes open. The flickering of the light above her was annoying, yet she did not have enough energy to cross the room to close it. When she finally fell under though, her rest was fitful, plagued with dreams of faceless women, men with blood on their hands, and then in a moment of clarity, bright green eyes. They seemed to follow her as dream Clarke walked through endless hallways, getting closer and closer until they enveloped her. She was suffocating; all she could see was green and the brightness was astounding. 

 

She jolts awake panting heavily, scrambling back until her back hits the headboard. Her hair is stuck to her face, matted with sweat. _Lexa_ is the first thing on her mind and when it hits her, the intensity of her disappointment almost causes her to slide back down. Against her will, her vision blurs and she launches herself off the bed angrily. She stomps across the room and slams the lights shut, engulfing herself in darkness. The only light comes from a small digital clock on her nightstand.

 

In the dark, it is much easier to cry and pretend it's alright, and Clarke lets herself go. Sob after sob wracks through her body as she crumples onto the bed once more. Besides her head, the red numbers jumps out at her, blurry and augmented. It is 1:31 in the morning and she is alone. 

 

 

//

 

 

“Keep walking.”

 

Emerson pulled at the rope harshly causing her to stumble on the uneven terrain. They were marching her deeper into the woods and she could feel the cold steel of a gun barrel press directly between her shoulder blades. From the quiet sounds of trudging behind her, she knew that it was more than just Alecki were following them. When they reached a clearing a few moments later, Lexa couldn’t bring herself to be surprised. _Well done, Lexa. You’re going to die in a shady clearing, in the middle of the night, with a bunch of burly dudes in combat suits._

 

Her yelp was cut off as Emerson suddenly swung around and pulled her behind a row of bushes on the edge of the clearing, hand coming to press hard against her mouth. He brought them into a squat, the gun barrel against her back disappearing to be replaced with the rough material of Emerson’s vest. 

 

“Now listen to me.” He breathed into her ear. His breath was pungent and hot against her skin and Lexa tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. Disgust burned deep inside her and she grunted against his hand.

 

“Do you see that.” Emerson hissed. In her peripheral view, she saw his chin jut forwards. Lexa forced herself to focus as she squinted into the darkness. Just as she was about to shake her head, no, a small bump in the terrain caught her eye. She leaned forwards and Emerson followed, letting her take a look. Whatever it was, it was too far away for her to make out the details.

 

“That’s your father’s car.” 

 

Lexa jolted forwards, voice muffled against Emerson’s hand as he forced her back. 

 

“Make one more sound and I’ll kill him.” 

 

Ice cold fear was enough to root her to the spot and she stopped struggling instantaneously.

 

“Good girl.” Emerson states, but it lacks his usual enthusiasm. His tone was serious; this was important. “When I release you, you are going to walk towards the vehicle _slowly._ And use this,” one hand disappears for a moment and presses a block of plastic Lexa makes out to be a walkie talkie into her hand, “to tell me the code. One digit for every five steps, understand?”

 

Lexa nods somewhat shakily. Emerson’s hand was still preventing her from moving freely.

 

“And don’t even think about running. My men are surrounding this clearing. One wrong move and your father will be dead.”

 

Besides them, the other men shift restlessly and Emerson hisses at them to keep quiet. 

 

“On my mark.” Emerson says, his hand around Lexa’s mouth loosening. She takes the opportunity to wriggle away.

 

“How do I know it’s him?” She whispers. He nudged the walkie.

 

“It’s three-way. He’ll be able to hear you, but so will we. You say anything inappropriate…”

 

“Yes, I know. You’ll kill him.” She was growing tense. The longer she waited, the more the fear will settle in. 

 

Emerson hums in agreement. “On my mark. Three. Two. One.”  
  
He pushes her forwards and Lexa hears the clicking of a gun behind her as Emerson shifts back into place. He wasn’t joking about shooting. The code was 8 digits. She had 40 steps. Might as well start now.

 

She moves forwards slowly, as instructed. On her fourth step, the device in her hand crackles loudly and she almost drops it in shock. With shaking fingers she clicks the button. “This is my fourth step.” She hisses. “You said I got five.”

 

When she got a reply, it was definitely enough for her to stop walking. “Lexa.” The voice from the walkie was not Emerson’s. It was much gentler, _familiar._

 

She could recognize that voice from anywhere. It was the voice that sang with her when a good song came on the radio, the voice that read to her before she slept when she was a toddler, it was the voice that patiently taught her math when she didn’t get the lesson at school. 

 

“Dad?” She choked out. 

 

“Lexa, it’s me.”

 

Lexa’s eyes blurred and she rubbed them impatiently as she frantically searched the clearing. The vehicle was coming into view, but was still no more than a blob of black against the background. 

 

“Where- Where are you, Dad?”

 

“I’m-”

 

“This is your first warning, Alexandria.” A harsh voice cut in. Emerson. “You won’t get a second one.”

 

She clamped her mouth shut and took another step. “Zero.”

 

The line is silent so she takes another five steps. “Zero.” She repeats. Another five steps.

 

“Four.”

 

The car was getting more and more defined.

 

“Zero.”

 

Her foot snags on a root and she stops walking to shake it loose.

 

 “Zero.”

 

The line crackles, but the voices are indistinguishable. 

 

“One.”

 

Her steps are getting shakier. She’s getting closer and her muscles are screaming at her to make a run for it

 

“Seven.”

 

She’s able to pick up movement inside of the car. It’s not much, but she thinks she sees a head. Five more steps. 

 

“Seven.” 

 

She doesn’t look back. The wind whooshes in her ear as she sprints to the car. It’s cold and the air has a thick almost sickening quality to it. Something felt off, but she pushes the feeling down; she’s so close to freedom. The radio in her hand is deathly silent and that should have been her first clue. The handle of the car is a little bit too wide, too smooth as she wrenches it back, throwing her body into the car.

 

“Drive, Dad, drive!” Lexa yells at the person sitting in the front seat. The car lurches forward as the driver slams down on the gas pedal and they swerve onto a road, but she gets no reply and that should have been her second clue. 

 

“Thank God you’re here! How did you find me? We need to go back for Clarke because Cage is going to kill her whenever he gets the chance. How long do you think it’ll take before the authorities storm that place?” 

 

There’s no answer. The rumbling is muted now that they’re going at a set pace on the road. 

 

“I asked you a question, Dad, did you not hear me? They’re going to _kill_ her!” Lexa strains her head to see what’s going on. Before she can open her mouth again, the car slows down and pulls over to the side of the road. There’s a small dirt path at the edge and the car turns onto it.

 

“What are you doing?” Lexa asks confused. Again, there’s no reply, but she doesn’t need one because suddenly, she notices it. His shoulders are too wide; he’s too short; her dad never wore beanies; his hands grip the wheel at the wrong place. The realization makes her legs tremble and her eyes water. “Who are you?” she whispers. She pushes forwards all at once, hands shooting towards the driver as she lets out a strangled cry, but it’s too slow. A pair of arms sling across her chest and slam her back into the car seat. They were strong and tears pour down Lexa’s face as she realizes that she was fooled. 

 

“Ah, ah.” The voice warned as she tried to push forwards again. “Don’t even try, lovely.” 

 

Ropes appear around her and bind her arms to her body, prohibiting any upper body movements. Emerson’s face comes into view besides her and she has never felt that much hatred for one person as she does now for Emerson. She gathers her remaining saliva and spits. It lands on its mark and he flinches back, letting out a howl in disgust. 

 

“You little fucker!” He hisses, wiping at his cheek. “If it weren’t for Cage’s orders, you would have been dead hours ago.” 

 

She hears shifting behind her and when he speaks again, his mouth is millimeters away form her ear. “Listen close. If you gave us the wrong number, we’ll come back to find you. We’ll torture you, your pretty girlfriend, and then kill both of you in a day. Even Cage’s orders can change so don’t think that you’re novelty just because we can’t kill you yet. You’re living on borrowed time, girlie.” 

 

“Where’s my dad?” Lexa’s voice shakes and she hates herself for it.

 

Emerson chuckles and another surge of hatred wells up in her. “Oh he was here. Just in a different field watching a different girl walk towards his car,” he tells her. Then he adds nonchalantly, “He’ll probably be dead by sun-up.”

 

When she spits for the second time, it isn’t voluntary. The saliva wells in her mouth and she’s barely able to wiggle out of Emerson’s grip before she heaves onto the floor of the moving car. 

 

 

//

 

 

The metal door slams too loud and she wants to feel sorry, but when she sees her all she feels is anger. For a moment it’s silent as they stand before each other. She looks like shit. Her hair is messy, tangled. Dirt splatters across her ripped jeans and covers almost all of her shoes. Her face is deathly pale and the dark purple bags under her eyes only serve to accentuate the fact. 

 

“Clarke, I-”

 

“No, fuck you Lexa.” 

 

They fall silent again. This time, she feels her hands shaking and she wants to cry, she wants to bury herself into her and just drown in _Lexa,_ but that’s not their way. Instead, she focuses on her anger and feels herself getting fired up.

 

“I trusted you!” She shouts.

 

“I know, I’m so-”

 

“No! I don’t want to hear you say it! It’s all lies anyways. Save it for someone who will listen!” she snaps.

 

“Clarke, I swear I didn’t mean to leave you here.”

 

“When will you learn that not meaning to do something, going out to do it, and then coming back to apologize is not the right way to do things?”

 

Lexa sighs, putting her hands up in surrender. “I know, I know. I’m so-”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

 A few steps is all it takes for her to cross the distance that separates them and Clarke grabs her and slams her against the wall, lips surging forwards to press roughly against hers. Lexa gasps against her as she bites down on her lip, not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to make a point. Her hips push into Lexa’s, pinning her against the wall as she tries to shift. She feels Lexa moan when her hands slip under her shirt and grab tightly onto her hip. The brunette’s arms come up to her shoulders and she expects Lexa to push her away, but she doesn’t. Instead, she pulls Clarke forward by the back of her neck so that they’re pressed flush against each other and pushes her tongue into her mouth. Clarke couldn’t stop the moan that tumbles out of her.

 

“You.” Clarke growls as she lifts Lexa’s shirt over her head. “Fucking.” Unclips Lexa’s bra and throws it over her shoulder. “Left.” Sucks hard onto Lexa’s neck causing the brunette to groan loudly. “Me.” Fumbles with the button on Lexa’s jeans. “Again.” Her voice cracks and her hands are shaking and the button just won’t cooperate. 

 

“Stupid _button._ ” She spits with way too much venom. Clarke wonders why the room is blurring and it isn’t until hot tears spill down her cheeks that she realizes she is crying. 

 

“Clarke.” Lexa’s hands fall down to cover her own, but she bats them away. The button comes undone and she pulls down Lexa’s pants and underwear all in one movement. Lexa steps out of them and Clarke pushes the bundle of clothing to the side impatiently. She’s kneeling in front of her and she sucks the soft skin on Lexa’s legs, moving upwards. 

 

“Clarke, wait. Maybe we should,” Lexa gasps as Clarke nudges her legs wider and sucks particularly hard on the inside of her upper thigh. “Maybe we should talk first.”

 

Clarke huffs and stands up abruptly, only inches away from Lexa. “Do you want this or not?” She demands. “Because if you don’t-”

 

Lexa doesn’t give her a chance to finish because she slams their mouths together, arms coming to wrap around her waist, tugging them closer. Clarke totters back slightly before the anger is washing over her again and she slams Lexa back into the wall, growling low in her throat. Her fingers brush lightly through Lexa’s folds and it draws out a moan from the brunette. Clarke resumes her kneeling position and doesn’t waste time lapping at Lexa’s clit. At the first swipe of her tongue, Lexa gasps and her hips lift off of the wall. Clarke bites down on the inside of her thigh as a warning and Lexa obediently presses herself back against the wall. She’s panting heavily and it’s a huge turn on for Clarke who pushes two fingers into her without pause. 

 

Lexa tangles her fingers into Clarke’s hair with a whine and tugs her closer. It was too much yet not enough at the same time and the ragged sound of Lexa’s breathing is proof that she feels the same way. Clarke sets a harsh pace, tongue pressing firmly against Lexa’s clit, trying to overwhelm her as fast as possible. Lexa doesn't disappoint as after a few more swift pumps, her legs begin to tremble and shake. 

 

“Clarke,” she gasps, “slower, please, slower. I-”

 

The words catch in her throat as Clarke’s fingers curl inside of her and she cums hard, unexpectedly, and her legs turning into jelly. Her hands scramble at the smooth wall behind her, trying to find a way to keep herself up as her vision flashes white, but suddenly a pair of arms encircle her waist and Clarke is there. She supports her as Lexa slumps forward in exhaustion. 

 

It only takes a moment for Lexa to right herself and she urgently tugs Clarke towards the bed, stripping her as she goes. Clarke’s thin underpants rip under the force she uses to fling them off her body and the blonde gasps as cool air hits her soaked core. They tumble onto the bed, Lexa on top, and her mouth goes dry at the sight below her. _Fuck._ Clarke’s sprawled out on the bed with her legs spread, biting her lip and _so ready_ for her. When she tries to speak, all that comes out is a whimper. Lexa doesn’t know where it comes from, but suddenly she has the urge to press small kisses down the column of her throat, to run her fingers gently through her hair, to whisper sweet nothings into her ear. It’s overwhelming and she hesitates. Then Clarke growls at her, “Don’t you dare.” And it jars her out of her thoughts. She springs into action, slipping fingers into her wet folds and matching Clarke’s previous pace until she was moaning and writhing beneath her. 

 

When Clarke comes, it’s with her tongue tangled with Lexa’s and her nails leaving angry red marks down smooth expanse of Lexa’s back. 

 

 

//

 

 

She wakes up around noon. When she does, her front is pressed into Clarke, legs tangled hopelessly with hers and arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Lexa hums sleepily into blonde hair as the body in her arms begins to shift. 

 

“Lex.” Clarke whispers. She can feel her breath fanning across her face, but her eyelids are still too heavy to open. Clarke’s fingers run through her hair and massage her scalp and she groans in appreciation. Clarke laughs softly and that’s when her eyes snap open. For a moment, she sees happiness, contentment, and something else she can’t quite name swirling in her blue eyes, but then the moment is gone and Clarke’s smile disappears. She’s guarded, weary. Lexa pushes herself up, still slightly disoriented. 

 

“Sorry.” She mumbles, bringing a hand up to rub her eyes. 

 

“It’s ok,” Clarke replies as she untangles their legs carefully and scoots back a couple inches. There’s a pregnant pause and the silence is tense, unwelcome. It doesn’t take long for Lexa to get uncomfortable. 

 

“So we need to talk?” She blurts out. It’s more of a question than a statement and she is unsure how the blonde will react, but luckily Clarke nods and the silence returns.

 

“I was going to come back.” Lexa whispers finally. “It was always part of the plan.”

 

“And how did that plan work out for you?”

 

Lexa ducks her head. “They tricked me,” she spat once she had finished telling her about last night. 

 

Clarke nods again as if she had expected as much. “And your dad? Did he get away?”

 

Lexa swallows thickly. “I don’t know,” she whispers, “that fucking Cage Wallace.” Her voice rises in volume. Clarke places a hand on her forearm and the touch calms her, but not by much.

 

“Since you took the deal,” Clarke says, “I’m assuming you don’t know who he really is?”

 

“What?” Lexa is confused. Clarke sighs and there's a little bit less anger in the back of her mind. 

 

“Cage is dangerous.” Clarke rolls towards her, looking up at Lexa who is sitting against the headboard. “Do you remember the Colismo Massacre years ago?” 

 

“I, what, I do vaguely. My Dad has mentioned it once or twice, why?”

 

“That was all Cage. He used Red to create an army that listened to his every order. That’s what the drug does, Lexa. It’s a mind manipulation fluid that allows Cage to control your every movement. Three hundred innocent people were killed just because he wanted to test it out and if he gets his hands on the papers in the safe, it’s game over. He’s going to destroy them and it’ll be too late to stop him by the time they rediscover the cure. So as _stupid_ as it sounds, he’s going to be able to achieve world domination.”

 

World domination.

 

The phrase echoes in Lexa’s mind and makes her head spin. It reminds her of second grade Anya, waving her plastic sword around and telling everyone to surrender. The concept is not unheard of, but simply unrealistic. To even be considered to have the ability to achieve such a feat is, quite frankly, overwhelming and Lexa’s mouth opens and then closes.

 

“I know you didn’t know,” Clarke sighs. “Which is partly why I’m still talking to you, but hell. Now that he has the code, we really need to get out. We’re the last hope of putting a stop to all of this.”

 

The gravity of their situation settles heavily in the room and for a moment, both girls are silent, taking it all in. Lexa draws her knees to her chest and buries her head in her hands. It has been less than ten minutes since she woke up and she already has a headache. 

 

“Hey.” Clarke reaches up and holds her wrist lightly. “It’s okay we’ll figure it out together.”

 

Lexa gazes back at her and sees her sincerity and determination. For the first time, she thinks that she can spend more than an hour in the same room with Clarke without getting annoyed and her heart beats erratically at the thought. _She’s important to you._ Alecki’s words echo through her mind and it’s like she’s in a trance when she leans down and presses a chaste kiss to Clarke’s lips. 

 

“I’m sorry for leaving you.” Her breathing shudders on exhales and instead of pushing her away like she thought she would, Clarke pulls her down by the back of her neck. She traces Lexa’s bottom lip with her tongue and sucks, letting out a small _mm_ as Lexa presses closer, arms falling to bracket either side of Clarke. She’s deepening the kiss when suddenly, a rapid beeping noise echoes through the room and they jolt apart. Lexa scrambles, arms flailing, to find the source and her eyes land on her watch. A small red light was pulsing on the side and she looked down to see the number at the top right corner flashing. It was ridiculously high and it takes her a while to connect the dots. When she does, she bursts out laughing, glances up at Clarke who is completely confused, and she laughs even harder at her expression. 

 

“What?” Clarke demands.

 

Lexa snorts between breaths, laughter dying down. “See that number?” She taps the screen.

 

“What about it?”

 

“That’s your heart rate. It suddenly spiked and I can’t imagine why.” Lexa deadpans.

 

She can see the realization slowly dawning on Clarke and revels in the way her cheeks flush red. “What the hell,” the blonde growls. “Where did you get that?” She makes a lunge for it, but Lexa leans away, holding it out of her reach.

 

“Nuh uh. It probably costs more than my allowance so I plan on selling it when we get back.”

 

Clarke continues to reach for it. “Answer the damn question,” she grits out. 

 

“I um-” It’s Lexa’s turn to be embarrassed. “I asked for it before I left so that I would know that you’re okay.”

 

Clarke stops struggling against her. “You did?” She asks and for a moment Lexa thinks that she’s looking at her in awe. But then she says, “Does that show my body temperature too? Cause we both know how high that gets when I’m close to finishing.”

 

Lexa’s eyes widen and her gaze drops down to the watch before snapping back up as she realizes her mistake. Clarke lets out a small laugh and the sound sends butterflies through her stomach.

 

“So you _would_ be looking for that number, wouldn’t you Lexa.” Clarke says, mouth wrapping delicately around her name. 

 

It’s light and flirtatious and everything that Clarke has never been with her, and Lexa thinks that she’s almost forgiven. Almost. She must have still been staring at her in shock because Clarke lets out another laugh and pushes off the bed. The sheets drop around her naked body and Lexa can do little more than stare. Clarke crosses the room, hips swaying (probably purposefully, dammit), and tosses an “I’m showering” carelessly over her shoulder. Before the door clicks behind her, she hears a low “You can join” and swallows thickly. 

 

She doesn’t think she has been this turned on in her life. 

 

 

//

 

 

Lexa doesn’t join her in the shower and she tries not to feel too disappointed. After all, the stinging feeling of her betrayal still lingered in her chest. It was strange how the pain that Lexa inflicted on her could somehow only be soothed by the kisses that Lexa gave her or the soft press of Lexa’s skin against hers. After she has finished dressing and wringing water out of her hair, she exits the room to find Lexa, clad only in a t-shirt, _her_ t-shirt (Lexa’s was probably too dirty to wear), and frowning at the wall. The garment was supposed to be tucked in and it was a bit long to wear with no pants. It hung just a little above Lexa’s butt and Clarke’s eyes traced over the exposed skin greedily. 

 

“What are you staring at?” She moves towards Lexa who was still eyeing the wall as if it had just committed a capital crime. 

 

“I forgot about the camera.” Lexa mutters and she moves closer to trace along the wall with her fingers. “How did I forget about the camera?”

 

Clarke comes up beside her. “What are you talking about?”

 

Her lips are pursed in a perfect pout and her hair is flowing and wavy despite having just woken up. Not for the first time, Clarke is caught up by just how beautiful Lexa truly is.

 

“They’re recording us.” Lexa states flatly. “There’s no audio, but they can see us. Which means…” She trails off, letting Clarke come to the conclusion herself. And when she does, Clarke’s eyebrows shoot up. 

 

“They're watching us?”

 

“I don’t know if they are right now, but they definitely could be.”

 

“So last night…”

 

“Yep.”

 

“Oh.”

 

(A beat.) 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay.”

 

It’s awkward. Lexa seems more guarded than she was before and Clarke is still unsure what the other girl thought about what happened last night. She probably thinks its a mistake, Clarke realizes, and she’s not sure why the thought bothers her so much because that’s exactly what it was. A mistake. Clarke was angry and Lexa was tired. She tells herself that there’s no room for feelings to get involved because they need to be entirely focused on getting out and also because it’s _Lexa._ Now that the shower water rinsed her mind clear, she knows that Lexa would never want a relationship with her, Clarke, who had spent seventeen years of her existence fighting with her. But then she thinks about the kiss Lexa had given her in the morning. _What was that?_ It had to mean something, right?

 

“Got it.” Lexa voice snaps her out of her thoughts. She looks back at her. Lexa is holding a black bead, smaller than the freckle above Clarke’s lip, between her thumb and forefinger. “Look closely and you can see the red light flashing on it.”

 

Clarke leans close and squints. Sure enough, a small red light flashes like a display on a video recorder. She nods in agreement and Lexa crushes the thing between her fingers, chipping it into smaller pieces and wiping her hand on her shirt. 

 

“My turn for a shower,” is all she says before she turns and disappears into the bathroom.

 

 

//

 

 

_“How come you don’t like them?”_

 

_“I just don’t.”_

 

_“Well, there’s gotta be a reason.”_

 

_“There isn’t.”_

 

_“Lexa pleeeease.”_

 

_Lexa sighs and drops her phone onto her lap. “They’re right across the street. You can go by yourself.”_

 

_“I can’t,” Clarke huffs. “I told you, they’re mad at me because I spilled Coke on their driveway yesterday.”_

 

_She’s wearing short running pants and a tank top that clings to her body due to the heat. It’s boiling outside and even the mild air conditioning indoors did nothing to help her cool down. Clarke had tied her blonde hair in a bun to keep it away from her sweaty neck._

 

_Lexa groans. “They’re your neighbors. They can’t hate you forever.”_

 

_“Yes they can. And from the looks of it, they will because I already tried apologizing and their six year old kid threw a toy truck at me. God, it hurt.” Clarke winces at the memory, hands falling towards the bruise still present on her thigh._

 

_“Just knock, ask for your phone, and walk away. It’s not that hard. I don’t think they’ll want to keep your phone anyways. God knows it’s probably filled with your terrible selfies.” Lexa grumbles, shifting on the couch she’s sprawled across._

 

_“Lexa Woods, take that back.”_

 

_“You know it’s true.”_

 

_Clarke sighs. “Come with me.” She walks closer and drops down on the couch beside her. “Pretty please, Lex. I’ll buy you three packs of Nutter Butters.”_

 

_Lexa shifts uncomfortably, eye determinedly glued to her phone._

 

_“Pleaaase.” Clarke rests her hand next to Lexa’s shoulder and uses another to pry the phone gently from Lexa’s hand, shutting it off and throwing it aside. Lexa groans and turns away, hands coming up to cover her face. Clarke smiles then because she knows she’s got her. Lexa never hides unless she’s about to give in._

 

_“Lex?” She pokes her arm._

 

_“Five packs of Nutter Butters and next time we’re not staying at your house. Your air conditioning sucks.” Lexa rolls back around and glares at her._

 

_“Deal!” Clarke squeals, hand wrapping around Lexa’s to drag her up. She whips back around and prances off, pulling Lexa along and missing the way that she blushes furiously._

 

_It’s not until they’re in front of the scary neighbor’s house that Clarke drops Lexa’s hand._

 

_“Um, you can go first.” Clarke says, biting her lip nervously. The house seemed to loom out in front of them and Clarke had always claimed that the two windows and garage door made a face that frowned at her whenever she walked by. Lexa sighs for what seems like the hundredth time this day (she always sighs extra when she’s around Clarke) and marches past her, muttering, “You’re insufferable” as she goes._

 

_She has to ring twice before a burly man comes to open the door._

 

_“Who’s this?” He grunts._

 

_“Hi.” Lexa flashes a charming smile, Speech and Debate skills taking over. “My name is Lexa. I’m here because Clarke,” she jabs a thumb behind her, “forgot her phone on your table yesterday when she was came for Antonio’s party. She would like to have it back please.”_

 

_Clarke’s head peeks out from behind Lexa’s shoulder as she speaks and the man narrows his eyes at her._

 

_“Ah yes. The girl who spilled an entire bottle of Coca Cola on my driveway.”_

 

_Clarke’s shoulders slump and she steps out from behind Lexa. “Yes, that would be me.”_

 

_“Your phone’s in my study. I’ll give it back to you for a favor.”_

 

_“Yes?” Clarke says nervously._

 

_“You two need to wash that stain off the cement. Can’t have a brown spot on my driveway. It’ll scare off my clients.”_

 

_Mr. Peterson was a mechanic and he opened up his garage on weekends for locals that need a quick repair or a spare part for whatever machine in their household that was not working._

 

_Clarke nods. “Alright. I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Peterson, it just slipped out of my hand.”_

 

_Mr. Peterson grumbles and scratches his head. “Hose is in front of the side door.”_

 

_Ten minutes later, they’re crouched over a rather large, brown stain that was warm and sticky due to the sun. Mr. Peterson had gave them an old, greasy towel that he used for car repairs and currently, Lexa is scrubbing and Clarke is rinsing._

 

_“Remind me why the hell I agreed to this.” Lexa growls as she pushes the cloth onto a particularly difficult spot that is clinging to the cement below. She’s sweating and hot and extremely irritable. “You couldn’t just hold the bottle like a normal person?”_

 

 _Clarke opens her mouth to protest, but it catches in her throat and she flushes when she remembers exactly_ why _she had dropped the bottle in the first place. To be honest… she had seen a certain brunette walking across the street wearing nothing but a bikini top and short shorts. Her hair was shiny and wavy as it tumbled across her shoulders and she had the most astonishingly bright green eyes that flashed in the sunlight and they had left Clarke breathless and needy._

 

_Yesterday was Antonio (Mr. Peterson’s kid)’s sixth birthday, and being his designated babysitter, she was supposed to be helping out, but obviously she did not know that Lexa would be going swimming at Anya’s house just two houses away from her. So she had dropped the bottle, which exploded upon impact with the ground, caused some poor kid to slip and fall when he ran through the sticky mess, and effectively ended the party for everyone. Antonio was not happy, but it’s safe to say that so wasn’t she._

 

_“It just… slipped. Okay?” She grits out._

 

_“Okay, fine.” Lexa stands up and throws the cloth on the ground. “I don’t even want to know. Clean this yourself, it’s way more than I signed up for anyways. I fulfilled my part of the agreement, which was to come with you. To the door. And now you can figure out how to get this stupid stain off the driveway.”_

 

_She starts to stomp off, but Clarke grabs onto her hand, a small noise of protest spilling out of her. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry Lexa, just stay. You don’t have to do anything. I’ll clean it myself, but just- just stay, please.”_

 

_She has no idea why she is feeling this way. Maybe it was the heat or the fact that she doesn’t want to be alone when Mr. Peterson comes out to yell at her again, but at the moment, she really really wants Lexa to stay. And Lexa just looks at her for a moment, and she thinks that she might say no, but finally she huffs out, “Fine. But only because I don’t want you to screw this up too and ask me to fix it again later.”_

 

_Clarke sighs in relief. She grabs the towel from the ground with her right hand and begins scrubbing at the stain, using her left to squeeze the hose handle and rinse as she goes. Two scrubs in she feels a hand on hers taking the hose from her. She looks up to see Lexa crouching over her and readjusting the nozzle, gaze fixed determinedly away from her._

 

_“Might as well make myself useful.” Is all she offers as she unties her plaid long-sleeved shirt from her waist and drapes it over Clarke’s shoulders. “I know it’s hot, but you’re going to get burned.” She says it nonchalantly and still can’t meet her gaze, but Clarke feels her heart swell up at the act. For the first time in forever, she thinks that working with Lexa might not be that bad after all._

 

 

//

 

 

Her foot is tapping rapidly on the ground and the sound annoys her, but somehow she can’t bring herself to stop.

 

“It’s nice to see you, Lexa.” Cage says, smiling. Before she can retort, Clarke growls from beside her and Cage laughs. “You didn’t really think that we would let you go, did you?”

 

Lexa feels the embarrassment and guilt settling in and Clarke leans forward angrily. “Leave her alone.”

 

They were called in a few minutes ago and they had tried to separate them again, but obviously, Lexa wasn’t going to let that happen again. And this time Clarke was just as adamant that they go in together so Maya finally relented. Cage had yelled at her and sent her off rudely, but he made no further remarks on their arrangement. 

 

“You’re all just a bunch of assholes who don’t know what they’re dealing with.” Clarke continues. “Do you really think that the safe only requires a pin? How are you going to get past the fingerprint scans? Retina scans? Voice recognition? You’ll be dead the minute you set foot in that building.” She snaps.

 

Cage seems undeterred. “I’m confident that my team will find a way. Meanwhile, since you will be staying here for however long it takes for the chamber to crack, you will make yourselves useful. I’m assigning you shifts.” He picks up a tablet on his desks and taps a few times. “Clarke, you will be assigned to kitchen duty, room 3B. Lexa, you’ll be in 4A working with the cleaning crew.”

 

Immediately they protest.

 

“We want to be place in the same room,” says Clarke the same time that Lexa snorts, “Like hell, we’re working together.”

 

“You will do your job,” Cage snaps and his face darkens, “or suffer the consequences.”

  
  
“Which are?” Clarke asks, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Physical punishment. Or death.” He says it coldly and out of the corner of her eye, Lexa sees Clarke swallow. Neither girl doubts his word.  

 

“You’ll start tomorrow,” Cage states. “7 AM sharp. Do not be late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rec. me some good clexa prompts to write. ;)


	5. Work

They’re late. Obviously. It’s totally Clarke’s fault, Lexa thinks. If she hadn’t taken so long in the bathroom, they would’ve been at their designated posts on time, but instead, Lexa had to wait an extra ten minutes to take her shower because Clarke claimed that she needed to dry her hair before it turned into a curly mess and the only outlet was in the bathroom. As a result, Cage now stands before them, lips curled in disgust. Ironically, they’re standing in what seems to be an old public bathroom. Lexa almost rolls her eyes at how cliche-horror-movie-like the room is when the lights flicker consistently overhead. 

 

“Whip them.” He snarls to the guards and Lexa freezes. _Whip them?_ “May this be your first lesson— _always_ be on time.”

 

He walks out the room and immediately two guards step forwards and seize the girls. Lexa swivels around to face Clarke and she sees blue eyes widen in shock. _Did he not say that he needed us safe?_ Lexa fights against her guards who push her away roughly and watches as Clarke struggles similarly with hers. A rag is slipped in Lexa’s mouth to stop her from yelling and ropes quickly attach themselves to her wrists. Lexa’s heart clutches as she is shoved towards a showering stall and the guards search for a place to tie the ropes to. Eventually, they settle on the poles of the stall and they pull the ropes taut, stretching Lexa’s arms in opposite directions over her head. Besides her, Clarke’s screams are muffled as she is similarly strung up, kicking furiously at the men. _What the hell!_ A resounding crack sounds behind her as the whip is tested on the nearby wall. 

 

“Boss says twenty each. Whaddya say we give ‘em twenty-five.” A voice says. 

 

“Don’t be stupid. If the boss says twenty, we give them twenty.”

 

“Aright then, who first?”

 

“Well…” A pause. “You can choose.”

 

“What me?”

 

“Oh for gods sake!” Another voice echoes. “You useless sons-of-bitches. Do you think this is a tea party? That we came here to chat? Whip them already!” 

 

The voice is unmistakably Emerson’s and Lexa rolls her eyes despite herself. She twists her head back and sees him snatching the whip from the bumbling guards and testing it out himself. Once he is satisfied with the result, he comes closer and Lexa’s eyes narrow.

 

“The brunette’s first.” He snickers, stalking in a half circle around her. “She’s the fighter.”

 

To her left Clarke makes a sound of protest, yanking on her ropes pointedly and Emerson rounds on her.

 

“No? Do you want to volunteer in her place?” 

 

He has a sort of sick grin on his face as if he genuinely enjoys torturing teenage girls in creepy, underground bathrooms. Clarke nods rapidly and Lexa panics. _No fucking way._ She screams through her rag and twists her whole body, feet coming to the side and kicking Emerson’s leg hard. As soon as the blow lands, he whips around and snarls. The whip whooshes in the air and slashes her side. Lexa flinches back as the sting pulses through her body and draws out a muffled grunt from her mouth which she clamps shut in anger. There will be no crying out today. Emerson’s eyes narrow.

 

“Sorry princess, but we’ve got some unfinished business here,” he says as he turns back to Lexa. She probably should be worried that the whip was at least three feet long and as thick as the rope binding her hands together, but all she can feel is relief— Clarke is safe, for now.

 

Emerson circles around her, out of her peripheral, and she squeezes her eyes shut. Clarke is writhing and yelling into her rag, staring at Emerson angrily, but he pays her no mind. The whip strikes harshly across her back and it takes all her might to stop herself from crying out. It hurts a lot. A third and fourth stroke fall onto the same section of her backside and she winces. The fifth strike draws out a small groan from her and she’s vaguely aware of Clarke thrashing wildly besides her. Her feet scramble at the slippery tiles below her as blow after blow leave her back raw and bruised. It takes eight strikes before the first cut appears. As they continue, the blood on her back starts trickling down her sides and she just can’t do it anymore. A small groan of pain leaks through her tightly clamped lips and Clarke yanks on her ropes so hard that the pole actually shudders. 

 

The strikes stop. 

 

Lexa’s head is fuzzy and her back is burning. She’s in a daze as she lifts her head and sees that Emerson has come to stand in front of Clarke who is looking at him with what she can only describe as raging hatred. Emerson moves the rag from her mouth and Clarke is talking and swearing all at once, the words coming out as a jumble and not making any sense to Lexa whose mind is still whirling. But apparently it makes sense to Emerson because he lurches forwards and drags Clarke towards him by her shirt. Lexa can only protest weakly into her rag.

 

“What do you propose then, little Princess.” Emerson hisses.

 

Clarke doesn’t flinch. “I’ll take the rest of hers and mine.”

 

Emerson grins and it twists his face in a sick and unnatural way. “That would be twenty nine lashes. Think you can take that?”

Clarke swallows hard, but doesn’t hesitate before nodding. Emerson laughs, a cold, cruel laugh that sends a shiver of fear down Lexa’s spine. He walks away and makes to leave and Lexa lets out a breath. Then she chokes as he suddenly spins around, bringing the whip down on Clarke hard. Clarke cries out in shock and it tears at Lexa like knives. The lashes are endless as Emerson swings down again and again and Clarke ducks her head, not even bothering to hide her pain. She’s only aware that she’s been screaming into the rag when her throat starts to sting from the yelling. _This is what I must have looked like to Clarke._ she thinks. It’s slowly driving her insane as she sees Clarke’s tears splash onto the bathroom tiles and her legs give way so that she’s just hanging from the poles like a rag doll. 

 

She wonders why the hell Clarke would take her whipping and curses her in her brain. Deep down she thinks she might already know the answer, but it’s scary and her back stings and there’s got to be some other explanation for this.

 

 _Stop! Please!_ Lexa sobs against her rags, straining against the ropes.  Somewhere between her yelling and thrashing and Emerson’s countdown, the world fades. When the corners of her sight comes back into focus, she sees that the whipping has stopped. She doesn’t realize that she’s crying until Emerson tilts her chin up roughly and calls her weak. 

 

“Get them working,” he barks to the guards and it’s over just as suddenly as it began. They’re hauled up, ropes untied, and moving down the corridor. Lexa’s mind is numb. Her back stings and she feels like throwing up. She swings her head back to look at Clarke in concern, but the blonde won’t meet her eyes, head still cast down at the floor and stumbling slightly. A surge of anger wells up inside Lexa and she tilts her head to wipe her wet cheeks on her shoulder rapidly. _Fuck you all!_ They’re pushed along the corridor, walking endlessly, stumbling and trying not to fall. Just as Lexa fears that Clarke can’t go on any further, they turn a corner and bump into the girl. 

 

“Maya.” A guard says, saluting. The other guards mumble and follow suit. 

 

“No need for that, Hector.” Maya says, voice cold. “What’s this?” 

 

Her eyes trail over them, lingering longer on Clarke’s broken body. 

 

“Boss had ‘em whipped.” 

 

“We’re bringing them to get their work clothes now.” Another guard supplies and theres a moment of silence when Maya simply looks at them. Then suddenly:

 

“Leave them with me.” Maya says and Lexa’s head snaps up in surprise. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

The guards are hesitant, mumbling and shuffling around awkwardly. 

 

“Don’t you all have breakfast break right about now.” Maya says coolly and a guard grumbles, “She’s right, I’m starving Hect.”

 

“Shut it,” says Hector. “Sorry Maya, we need to make sure they don’t run and cause a ruckuss.” 

 

“Do they look like they can run?” Maya snaps, glancing pointedly at how heavily Clarke was leaning on one guard. “I can handle it.”

 

It must’ve been the authority in her voice (though Lexa can hear a slight shake) because all the guards duck their heads. 

 

So they were handed over like livestock and Lexa doesn’t hesitate to let Clarke lean on her, though it’s awkward since their hands are still bound. Clarke hisses in pain when Lexa’s arm brushes across her back accidentally and she shrinks back. 

 

Maya leads them down the corridor twice as fast and Lexa grits her teeth trying to catch up. She thinks that she might hate Maya as well as the tunnels twist and turn and Clarke breathes heavily beside her, but then the girl stops abruptly in front of her, looks both ways and then tugs them through a white door that Lexa had barely even noticed was there. 

 

“Take her shirt off.” Maya orders the second the door swings shut behind them and Lexa glares at her. Maya’s eyes soften and she comes to remove the rag from her mouth and untie their hands. “Sorry. I forgot.”

 

They’re standing in the middle of a dark room. The only light is the flickering on and off on the far side of the room, but Lexa can tell that it was once a gaming room. Old gaming consoles and a rickety pool table fill the room and a dusty couch and table are shove into a corner. Lexa really doesn’t care that Maya’s sorry. Once she’s spotted the couch, which is conveniently right under the flickering light, she pulls Clarke over. She ignores how her own cut throbs painfully as she spins Clarke around gently and lifts the shirt, which is more of a torn up, bloody, rag, over her head. Clarke cries out and stumbles, but Lexa fingers grab her hips. 

 

“Sit down, Clarke.”

 

Maya spins away as Clarke plops down on the couch. Lexa sits next to her and turns her around so that she can see her back. When she does, Lexa is unable to keep a horrified gasp from wrenching out of her body. What once was a smooth plane of soft, white skin was now a bloody mess of cuts and bruises, staining her skin red, blue, purple and stretching across the entirety of her back.

“Clarke.” She chokes out. She can’t breathe. Her chest aches for the girl sitting in front of her. “I’m going to take off your bra.”

 

Clarke nods wordlessly, shaking and swaying unsteadily. With unsteady hands, she unclips the black material and gently eases it off, breathing a sigh of relief to see that the skin underneath had no more lacerations, but it was still bruised beyond recognition. Maya reenters the room with a bin that she sets on the table. She grabs a bottle of clear liquid and a cotton swab and comes up beside them.

 

“I’m going to clean this, okay?” She says gently to Clarke, showing her the items in her hands. Clarke sniffles and nods, shifting so that more of her weight rested on Lexa’s firm grip on her arms. Lexa’s head is spinning and she barely registers Maya pouring out the liquid onto the swab. Her eyes are solely focused on the cuts, still dripping blood and disgustingly large. But just as Maya reaches forwards, Lexa snatches her wrist tightly. 

 

“No. Don’t touch her.” She snarls. 

 

“I need to make sure that those cuts don’t get infected.” Maya says calmly, but Lexa’s eyes are wild, frantic. 

 

“No, that could be poison for all I know. I won’t let you.”

 

It’s irrational and a little bit unfair towards Maya who has only helped them so far, but Lexa feels angry, angry at everyone in this damn building, but mainly at herself for being so helpless to stop the cruel torture that had just occurred. 

 

“You know that this isn't poison. Let me help her or else she’ll be hurting a lot more.” 

 

Lexa clenches her jaw. _Stop her!_ Her mind screams. But then:

 

“Lexa,” Clarke says quietly. She turns around and winces, but her eyes meet Lexa’s and they’re a watery, beautiful baby blue. Lexa’s heart twists in her chest as Clarke takes her hand and tangles their fingers together. “It’s okay.”

 

Lexa let’s out a shuddering breath and reluctantly moves aside. She can’t look Maya in the eye, but says to her shakily, “Do it.”

 

She helps Clarke lie down on her stomach and she scoots towards the end of the sofa, giving Maya more room to work. Lexa’s hand remains intertwined with Clarke’s and she draws soothing circles with her thumb on the back of her hand. At the first dab of the cotton swab, Clarke cries out and arches off the couch, clutching Lexa’s hand so tightly that her knuckles turn white. 

 

“Hold her down. I need you to stay still, Clarke.” 

 

Lexa scoots closer to the sofa and uses her free hand to cup Clarke’s cheek before pressing their foreheads together. Her fingers tremble from where they frame Clarke’s face gently and she wills her voice to stay strong. “Stay still, Clarke, you can do this.”

 

They try again and though Clarke doesn’t jolt up like the first time, her body gives little tremors of pain and fresh tears run down her cheeks. She clenches her teeth and whines as Maya presses firmly along a particularly large cut and Lexa chokes back her own sob as she watches. _She doesn’t deserve this! That should be me!_ Clarke gasps and writhes despite herself and Lexa’s shaking hand comes to press her down into the couch. It’s a long and exhausting process and there’s little more for Lexa to do but press kisses down Clarke’s nose, her cheeks, her forehead. When Maya gets to the last cut, Clarke is already so drained that she’s terrifyingly still as tears continue to leak out of her eyes. Lexa murmurs to her a constant stream of meaningless words and she’s not sure what they mean herself, but Clarke seems to relax more as her death grip around Lexa’s hand loosens. So she keeps saying them and rubbing her hand and hating herself for not being able to get them out of this wretched place. 

 

“It’s over now. Clarke, do you hear me? Clarke. It’s over.” She begs and watches as Clarke blinks drowsily up at her. “Maya’s going to put some bandages on and you’ll heal.” Lexa wipes away her tears and Clarke’s eyes are still tight with pain. But she’s no longer crying and Lexa thinks that’s a good sign. 

 

“Is she supposed to fall asleep?” Lexa demands, looking up at Maya. They both ignore how her voice cracks near the end. 

 

“It’s safe for her to, if that’s what you mean. She’s exhausted. It’s best for her to rest a while.”

 

Lexa nods, shoulders slumping forwards. She watches silently as Clarke sleeps through Maya spreading some sort of gauze on her back, and Lexa only moves forwards when Maya needs her help lifting Clarke up so that they can get the bandages around her body. Clarke mumbles unintelligently as she holds her and Lexa knows. She knows she would do anything for her.

 

“Let me take a look at you.” Maya says after they’re done. In her worried haze, she had completely forgotten that her own back is bruised and cut as well. Now the throbs are slowly getting worse and she gently pulls her hand from Clarke’s and fidgets with the hem of her shirt. She scoots towards Maya who helps her undress and scans down her back. 

 

“This is going to hurt” is all the warning she gets before something presses into her back and she hisses in pain. “It’s just alcohol, but you need to stay still or else it’ll run down your back and hurt even more.” 

 

Lexa grits her teeth as Maya works and it’s like acid burning against her already raw skin. Tears prickle at the back of her eyes, but she swallows them down. _Be strong._ The gauze comes next and it’s like water in a desert. The medication is a painkiller and it makes Lexa’s back feel cool and tingly. As soon as the bandages are on and Maya gives her shoulder a pat, she scoots back across to Clarke. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly and a strand of her falls over her face which Lexa reaches out to brush away. 

 

“Thank you.” She says to Maya and though her voice is rough, her meaning is genuine and Maya offers a small smile. 

 

“No problem. You can stay here. I’ll be back after I figure out how to excuse your absences from work, but don’t move. Once you’re out of this room, I can’t guarantee that you’ll be safe.” She warns.

 

Lexa nods and it isn’t until Maya is almost in front of the door that Lexa calls out. “Wait!”

 

Maya turns expectantly. 

 

Lexa clears her throat. “Why are you helping us?”

 

For a moment, Lexa almost thinks that she isn’t going to answer, but then she says quietly, “There are a lot of things you don’t know. Your lives are not the only ones at stake here.”

 

And then she’s gone. Lexa leans against the arm of the couch and retakes Clarke’s hand in her own. She falls asleep a confused and exhausted mess. 

 

 

//

 

 

When she wakes, her back is still throbbing, but it’s much better than when she fell asleep. She lifts her head and pushes herself up, wincing as her neck twists painfully from the cramped position that she had fallen asleep in. Blinking, she scans the room quickly, taking in her surroundings that had been no more than a fuzzy blur in the haze of pain she was under. Below her, Lexa is curled into a ball on the ground and her hand is inches away from her own. _We must’ve fallen asleep holding hands._ The thought strikes her hard and even though she knows that this is no time to be distracted, she still blushes.

 

Clarke rolls off the couch with a groan and bends down to the sleeping figure. 

 

“Lexa.” She whispers, gently shaking her. “Lex.”

 

The girl murmurs unintelligibly and furrows her eyebrows. Clarke bites her lip as an unexpected surge of affection washes through her and she leans down to gently brush away the hair that sticks to Lexa’s sweaty face, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She scoots over so that she's lying next to Lexa on the ground and presses forwards into her, her forehead coming to rest on Lexa’s chest and her arm winding around Lexa’s waist, paying special attention to avoid the patches of bandages on her back. Clarke doesn’t remember how it happens, but she must’ve dozed off because the next time she wakes, she’s back on the couch and there’s a blanket covering her. There’s also a delicious smell wafting through the air and her stomach growls loudly. 

 

“Finally awake.” A voice says next to her and she startles. But it’s only Lexa, sitting at the opposite end of the couch and shoveling food into her mouth from a paper bowl. Whatever it is, it smells absolutely mouthwatering and Clarke automatically reaches out for it, but Lexa draws away and holds it out of her reach. 

 

“Nuh uh uh. Drink first.” She glances pointedly at the cup on the table that is now pushed so that it is right up against the couch. Clarke snatches it, gulping down the cool water greedily. 

 

“Now can I have some?” She sounds like a kid, impatient and whiny, and Lexa just laughs before reaching down (Clarke doesn’t miss how she winces) and grabbing another container from the ground. 

 

“Maya brought it.” Lexa explains, handing it over to her along with a plastic fork. “She was also the one who helped you in case you don’t remember.”

 

“I do.” Clarke doesn’t hesitate to pop open the lid and scoop a large helping of gumbo rice into her mouth, groaning in appreciation. “I also remember you saying that you didn’t want me to die.” 

 

Lexa freezes for a moment before she gently places her fork back in the container, a rosy tint settling high in her cheeks. “Oh.”

 

Clarke smiles into another mouthful of delicious Cajun food as Lexa stutters out, “I um, didn’t think you would remember that.”

 

 “I remember a lot of things. I have a good memory.”

 

There is a pause when the only noises heard are chewing and the scraping of forks on bowls. 

 

“Um, what… what else do you remember?”

 

She doesn't know why Lexa is nervous because Clarke finds all of the things she said to her extremely lovely and it helped take her mind off the pain. 

 

“Oh you know… things. Like how you said everything is going to be okay.” Clarke chews on her last bit of food with a small smile. 

 

“How you think I’m beautiful.” She scrapes the bowl clean.

 

“How you’re sorry…” She sets the container down with a frown. “For not being able to do anything to stop them.” 

 

Lexa’s gulp is quite audible as she sets down her container as well and Clarke ducks her head. The words were meaningful, beautiful, but Clarke can’t help but think that they just might have meant nothing at all. Just another set of empty words designed to comfort and little else. But when she looks back at her, her heart falters because Lexa is crying.

 

“Hey hey. No, Lexa, what’s wrong?” She clambers over a little too fast to straddle Lexa’s legs and her eyes tighten in pain. Lexa’s hands automatically come up to rest on Clarke’s hips, supporting her and preventing her back from twisting. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that. I liked what you said, seriously. Like. I like all of it.” 

 

She’s practically on top of Lexa now as her hands come up to try and brush away Lexa’s tears frantically, but they keep on spilling out. Lexa lets out a shuddering breath and looks anywhere, but at her. 

 

“I just- I just watched, Clarke. And I couldn’t even get them to stop. Twenty-nine lashes, nine of them were mine, and I’ve been so bad to you. I left you, but you still took my beating and I’m so so sorry.” Her voice cracks at the end.

 

It breaks Clarke to see her like this, scared, unsure. In their seventeen years together, she has only seen Lexa cry twice, this being the third. The usually confident and unfazed girl is completely gone and is replaced with this trembling, shuddering human being that Clarke can’t help but reach out to. 

 

“No.” She says firmly. “No, Lexa. It’s not your fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. If you need someone to blame, blame Cage. He’s the one that still has us here.”

 

Lexa looks up at her and she’s glad to see that the flow of tears has lessened. “You took my lashes.” She says in awe, green eyes watery and wide.

 

“I did.” Clarke leans down so that their faces are inches apart and she can feel Lexa’s little sigh wash across her lips. 

 

“Why?”

 

And that’s the question that made her freeze. Why? Why because she likes Lexa, like _really_ likes her. Because she _needs_ her. Because she quite literally doesn’t know a life without her. She doesn’t know how, out of all this years they’ve been together, she has somehow managed to overlook Lexa entirely. But maybe it’s because she has always seen her, but only as someone that’s completely and utterly unattainable, that has been the real problem. Sitting on top of Lexa now, she _knows_ that there is no person she trusts more, despite their fights, their anger, their entirely uncontrollable passion. And Clarke wants to tell her all of that, she really does. But the words stick to her throat on the exhale, suffocating her, and Lexa’s eyes harden. The grip around her hips tighten and suddenly, she’s being heaved aside. Lexa’s body leaves the couch and she’s cold. The cushion springs up suddenly, sending a jolt of pain up Clarke’s back. 

 

“Maya should be coming back any minute. She’ll tell us how to get out of here.”

 

Clarke nods, but Lexa’s back is facing her so she clears her throat and says, “Okay.”

 

She wants her to turn around. Wants to see those swirling green eyes that always give away too much emotion when Lexa’s unguarded. But her back flares up again as she shifts and Lexa’s posture is tense. They wait in silence for the remaining five minutes until Maya reappears and rushes them back down the hall. 

 

 

//

 

_Lexa pants heavily, arms and legs pumping as the ball sails through the air. She doesn’t turn to look at it because she knows that Anya will find a way to get it to her. At the last moment, she jerks the pocket towards the ball and sure enough, a rewarding thud tells her that it has met its mark. Twisting her body to avoid the incoming opponent, she jolts the shaft of her lacrosse stick and the ball whooshes past the goalie and into the goal._

 

_The crowd erupts into cheers as she circles back, arms raised in victory. Anya jogs up to her and bumps her in with her shoulder. “Nice score, freshie.” Lexa offers a lopsided grin and they run towards their team._

 

_“Woods, good shot. We need to circle back and be patient. Nia’s already getting frustrated and we can play to that.” Coach Indra tells them. It’s the qualifying game to the State competition and they really need to win. But as Indra continues, Lexa is no longer listening. She’s spotted a flash of blonde hair moving through the crowd and her eyes track it to where, finally, its accompanying face and body appear on the sidelines. Clarke’s eyes are glued to her phone. As always, Lexa thinks. But in that moment, she chooses to look up and their eyes meet across the entire field. Lexa’s chin tilts up defiantly and Clarke smirks, pocketing the device in her hands._

 

Huh. That’s new. _Lexa thinks. Never before had Clarke really paid attention to her games. Despite the fact that Octavia was her teammate, she knows that Clarke only shows up because Jake was a huge fan. She watches as Clarke crosses her arms, lifting her chest which Lexa inconveniently can’t help staring at. She scans down the tan skin of her legs under a pair of light jean shorts and back up at her open blouse and tank top underneath._

 

_“Hey.” Octavia elbows her. “Eyes on the prize, Woods.”_

 

_She looks back at Octavia’s knowing smirk and fights the flush that coats the tip of her ears. Lexa should have known that Clarke’s presence is going to affect her playing for the worse. The minute she started running, the ball was already sent her way. She miscalculates her footwork and the ball flies just a hint too close to her body. Nevertheless, she caught it, stumbling. She has to move though as out of the corner of her eye, she sees a flash of red from a rival player’s jersey.  So she takes a few steps forwards, hoping to gain her balance as she runs, but her movements are all off. Lexa doesn’t know how it happens, but suddenly the ground is whooshing up to meet her._

 

_She slams into the dirt hard and the player behind her is too slow to stop, crashing against her body as well. The player’s stick whacks her across the head and she hears the audience gasp. The world is spinning around her when Anya finally reaches her and flips her onto her back._

 

_“Lexa! Lexa, can you hear me?”_

 

_There’s blood running from her nose and she nods weakly. The game had not stopped and the ball had rolled out of her lacrosse stick net, only to be scooped up by another player from the opposing team. Two players short, Ark had been unable to prevent the other team from scoring. Lexa stares dumbly at the score, head settling down and the world coming back to focus. She had lost their lead. It was currently tied and only a few minutes remained._

 

_“Move! I need to see her!” Lexa glances behind Anya’s worried face to see Clarke pushing angrily against a wall of bodies. As she gets through, Indra steps in front of her. “Who are you?”_

 

_Clarke opens her mouth to speak, but Lexa beats her to it. “It’s okay. She’s a friend.”_

 

_Indra looks back at her with an eyebrow raised, but wordlessly, she moves to let Clarke pass. She kneels next to Lexa and Anya clears her throat and excuses herself. “Are you okay?”_

 

_Lexa rolls her eyes. “Peachy.”_

 

_Clarke sends her a hard glare. “I knew I shouldn’t have come today,” she says helping Lexa up. “You always play worse when I’m here.”_

 

_Lexa groans as the world starts spinning again. “You don’t know how I play when you’re not here.”_

 

_“Octavia tells me when I ask.” They walk together to the sidelines where an athletic trainer takes a look at Lexa’s nose which is still gushing blood. Instead of moving away like Lexa had expects, Clarke plops down on the bench next to her. She watches Clarke watch her as the trainer wipes away the blood, prescribes her a pack of ice, and tells her to tilt her head up a little and she’ll be fine. Throughout the whole ordeal, Clarke’s eyes never leave hers and Lexa thinks that she should be watching the game, but Clarke’s eyes were so captivating. Exactly the right shade of blue to make the sky look dim in comparison._

 

_The trainer moves away and the movement causes Clarke to break their eye contact._

 

_“So you ask about me?” Lexa says smiling, one hand holding the bag of ice to her face._

 

_Clarke blushes. “Not really. It’s more of a… whole team kind of thing. I’m very invested in Ark athletics.” She says matter-of-factly._

 

_“Mhm,” Lexa nods seriously. “Is that why you’re on you’re phone the whole time? Because you need to record it all for the people back home?”_

 

_Clarke bites her lip and looks down. “Maybe I record it for me. Can’t I enjoy watching my best friend play?”_

 

_Lexa’s heart sinks as she realizes that Clarke is talking about Octavia. “Right.” She says curtly. It’s apparent that there’s nothing more to say as Clarke returns to watching the game and so does Lexa. With a jolt, she realizes that they are down. Her stomach churns with guilt as Monroe is double-teamed by two opponents, one of which she was supposed to be guarding. There are no substitutes today; there has been entirely too many casualties since the beginning of the season. Monroe stumbles and loses the ball and Lexa grits her teeth._

 

_“Here.” Lexa drops her icepack next to Clarke without looking at her and stands. She’s grabbing for her stick when Clarke calls out to her._

 

_“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”_

 

_Lexa turns and she takes in the girl sitting before her, flashing blue eyes, lips parted, cheeks flushed red from the heat. “I have a game to win.”_

 

_“Hell no! You need to rest, Lexa.” Clarke is standing, but Lexa is already back up, scanning the sideline for Indra._

 

_“My team needs me.” Is all she says before she is jogging towards the darker skinned woman that she had spotted to her right._

 

_“Indra.” She huffs, coming to a stop in front of her. “Put me in.”_

 

_Indra’s gaze is hard as it bores into her. “Are you ready to focus? Because there is only three minutes left and if your blonde lady friend distracts you one more time, this loss will be entirely on you.”_

 

_Lexa lifts her chin. “It won’t happen again.”_

 

_Indra must see some kind of shift in her gaze because the coach nods once and points towards the field. Lexa doesn’t need to be told twice and a couple of her teammates pat her on the shoulder and send nods her way as she joins them once again. The ball is currently sitting in between an opposing player’s feet, having rolled out of bounds when Anya’s pass had been poorly received. Lexa’s head pounds as hard as her heart when the referee blows the whistle twice and the clock resumes its countdown._

 

_She springs into action, dancing forwards to prevent the other player from receiving the ball. They’re taking too long, Lexa thinks, as the opposing team passes the ball over and over again. The clock is already at two minutes and Lexa grits her teeth. “Anya!” She yells and the other girl’s gaze snaps up to meet hers. She doesn’t need to look again to know that Anya got the message as she spins around, jumping into the air as the ball leaves the rival player’s net._

 

 _Below her Anya spins to cut off the player she was guarding and the ball lands in Lexa’s pocket with a thud. She hits the ground running. There is more than half a field to cover in less that a minute. But she can do this. She looks forwards to see if there is anyone to pass it to, but all her team members were running after her._ Dammit! _No one else can help her. She is alone._

 

_Her first obstacle is a burly brunette nearly twice the size of her and she easily shakes her after a few fast changes in direction. The second girl is not that easy and Lexa has to backtrack to spin around her and by then, Octavia catches up to her. Lexa’s head pounds painfully and she is extremely grateful when Octavia blocks the girl and Lexa whooshes past. The goal is less that ten feet away and if she shoots now, there is a chance that she will make it, but it’s not good enough._

 

_“Lexa!” Octavia huffs on her right. Twenty seconds left on the clock. Octavia’s slightly behind Lexa, but in a way better position. Ten seconds. There is no hesitation as the ball flies to Octavia’s strings and she sends it hurling past the goalie into the net. The buzzer sounds and the rest of the team crowds Octavia, pulling Lexa into their hug. The crowd goes wild behind them and Lexa tilts her head up, grinning at the sky. Indra walks up to her as the team scatters into the crowd._

 

_“You did well, Woods. I thought we had lost you, but it seems that your strength is true.”_

 

_Lexa flushes at the rare praise and nods._

 

_“Hey Lexa!”_

 

_She whips around at the sound of her name and is surprised when she sees Octavia pushing through the crowd. “Clarke is looking for you.”_

 

_Octavia flicks her finger in the direction of Clarke who is perched on a bench and craning her head from side to side. Lexa’s heart jolts in her chest, but she only nods before turning back to Indra. “Go.” The coach says to her and even though she rolls her eyes, it comes out a lot more gentle than Lexa would have expected._

 

_She doesn’t hesitate to murmur her gratitude and heaves her bag and lacrosse stick over her shoulder before marching towards Clarke. The blonde sees her before Lexa fully arrives and jumps down to greet her. Lexa watches as Clarke shoots her a perfect eye roll and grabs her by the shirt._

 

_“Jesus Christ, Lexa. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”_

 

_Lexa stumbles forwards as Clarke tugs hard. “Give me that.” Clarke reaches forwards and grabs her bag from her before she can protest. She can see Anya walking towards her out of the corner of her eye._

 

_“You’re such an idiot.” Clarke says before she pulls Lexa into a bone crushing hug which lasts about five seconds before she hastily pulls away. It’s enough to give her whiplash and for Anya to stop dead in her tracks before abruptly turning the other way._

 

 _“Good job on your win,” Clarke mumbles as she looks at the ground. Lexa blinks rapidly, unable to piece together what had just happened._ Must me my head. Did Clarke Griffin just give me a hug? _Clarke is already turning when she snaps out of her daze and a hand wraps itself around Lexa’s wrist. Everyone stares at them as they march through the crowd. Clarke pays them no mind, looking stubbornly ahead and carrying all of Lexa’s stuff. Lexa wonders what they must be thinking right now. The most popular girl walking with the outcast._

 

_But even through it all, she can’t bring herself to look away from the blonde girl in front of her. Especially when she turns around and her blue eyes glimmer in the fading light. “Come on Lexa, let’s go home. I’m really hungry and my mom made pasta. There’s some for you if you hurry up.”_

 

_It’s nonchalant and light and Lexa can do little more than nod and continue staring. Eyes on the prize, right?_

 

 

 

//

 

 

“It was a fucking joke!”

 

Clarke is absolutely livid. 

 

“I cannot believe they make me do this!” She stomps back and forth across the length of the room. She suddenly stops and swivels towards Lexa again. “How many pans do you need to cook a meal?”

 

It’s ten o’clock at night and Lexa is sitting beneath a pile of warm blankets and she really really wants to go to sleep, but listening to Clarke apparently ranks higher in her sleep-deprived mind so she forces herself to stay awake and leans against the headboard warily.

 

“Well you don’t want to find out because I just scrubbed them all before they made me peel like a hundred potatoes! And do you know what’s the worst part?” Clarke’s voice lowers and her blue eyes flash in the dimness. Lexa just wants to pull her into bed and bury herself into her warmth, but she holds still. “Sedatives, Lexa. Sedatives. How did we not see this? Why on earth would they add sedatives to their own peoples’ food?”

 

Clarke thrusts her hands up to the ceiling and the long t-shirt she wears to bed rides up, showcasing a thin strip of creamy, smooth skin. Lexa’s eyes zone in on the newly revealed area and she can barely focus as the words spill out a hundred miles per hour.

 

“I mean there has to be something they’re hiding. Or something that’s going to cause an uproar because why else would they want their own people taking sedatives? They want them weak. Gosh Lexa, were those guards on sedatives? No they can’t have been. But then again, if it’s mild enough to just keep them easily manipulated, I guess that’s possible. And-”

 

“Clarke.” Lexa blinks. “Wait slow down. Did you say sedatives? Like the pills?”

 

Clarke frowns and braces her hands on the footboard. The candle that Clarke had snuck back from the kitchen casts a warm light upon her features, softening them and Lexa’s breath catches in her throat. 

 

“No, it was like a powder or something. White.”

 

“Are you sure that it’s not flour?”

 

Clarke splutters. “Well I mean. The guy that ate the food said he got sleepy and the kitchen manager snaps if I don’t get exactly the right amount. Besides, I’m pretty sure I know what flour looks likes.”

 

Lexa rubs her eyes and says, “You know people get sleepy after they eat? It’s perfectly normal. Your blood flows down to your stomach to help it digest food.”

 

Her eyes fall once again to Clarke’s bare, long legs and she has to work hard to snap them back up when she continues talking.

 

“You’re probably just overthinking,” Lexa says biting her lip and shifting to make more room on the bed. “It’s been a long day and… you should come to bed.”

 

The room is warm, almost too warm, candles throwing a low, orange light across the walls. When Clarke rounds the corner of the bed and her weight makes a dip on her side, Lexa’s head is already spinning. 

 

“Inviting me into your bed, Lex?” Clarke says teasingly. Her leg swings over Lexa’s body and she presses herself against her side even though Lexa had purposefully left one side of the bed empty. Lexa swallows thickly and tries not to groan when their skin presses together. Clarke wasn’t usually this handsy, but then again, Lexa wasn’t usually this desperate, craving every inch of contact she could get. Her arm wraps absentmindedly around Clarke’s waist as she settles into her.

 

“There’s only one bed, Clarke.”

 

“Exactly.” Clarke hums. “Well played.”

 

There’s a beat of silence when blue eyes gaze up at her before Clarke’s giggling and the vibrations against her side tickle, making her laugh too.

 

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I’m just really tired.” Clarke says, rolling away. Before she can stop it, Lexa lets out a small whine and freezes. Clarke turns around and raises an eyebrow at her. She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. It’s been little less than two weeks since they started “working” and so far. She’s been seeing Clarke less and less and it’s driving her crazy. They’re usually back at the same time, but they’re so exhausted that little to not talk is exchanged as they get ready for bed and fall asleep, both respectfully on their designated sides. (Though it is a little hard to ignore that they end up tangled and clutching each other tightly in the morning.) Back at home, Lexa would never ever complain at a “Clarke-free” day. In fact, she would probably celebrate, which makes her wonder— what exactly changed in the past two weeks that made her yearn for more time with Clarke?

 

“Um, I just-” Lexa squeezes her eyes shut. “Nothing. Blow out the candle, will you? It’s already too hot and I don’t want it burning through the night.” 

 

Her eyes are still closed when a flash of disappointment quickly passes over Clarke’s face and the mattress shifts again, signaling to her that Clarke had gone to do what she asked. Lexa wonders again when _that_ had started happening. Clarke listening to her. It had certainly never happened back at home without some sort of whining or complaining, but Clarke is silent as the red glow behind her eyelids disappears. There is more shuffling and she hears the small sigh that Clarke lets out, but she still doesn’t open her eyes. 

 

“Lexa.” It’s uttered softly, almost a sigh, and Lexa reluctantly cracks her eyes open.

 

Clarke is merely an outline, back on her side of the bed, and Lexa instinctively moves closer. Their legs brush under the blanket and suddenly, Clarke is only a few inches away. 

 

“We’re… friends right?” Clarke’s voice is hesitant, shy, and Lexa’s heart starts beating faster.

 

She swallows before replying, “Of course.” A beat. “Always.”

 

Lexa is expecting it as Clarke’s arms wind around her neck, but she still shivers. 

 

“Okay.”

 

Clarke’s fingers trail lower until she’s brushing along the curve of Lexa’s breasts and she arches into the touch. “Clarke.” She chokes out. _What is going on? I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I can’t! This is Clarke._ “What…”

 

“Tell me to stop.” Something in Clarke’s voice, the way she begs her, tells Lexa that she feels it too. “Tell me and we can go back to sleeping and pretending we hate each other.” Lexa’s breathing almost stops entirely.

 

“We do hate each other.” Lexa asserts even as she bridges that gap between their mouths and presses Clarke roughly into the mattress.

 

“We hate each other.” Lexa gasps again for confirmation as she is rolled onto her back and Clarke breaks their kiss to lick down her neck, long fingers clutching at Lexa’s protruding hipbones. Her hips buck upwards, searching for more friction and she scrambles with Clarke’s shirt, tugging it impatiently over her head. Suddenly she regrets her decision to have Clarke blow out the candles because the only light in the room is from the tiny alarm clock and she isn’t seeing nearly as much as she wants to. 

 

“I don’t hate you.” Clarke mumbles against her body, pulling Lexa’s shorts down. Two fingers press deftly into her center and Lexa can’t stop her groan from sounding throughout the room. 

 

“You have to.” Lexa pants, eyes rolling at the lances of pleasure searing through her body. Her chest burns with guilt. She knows very well what leaving had done to Clarke and regret wasn’t a strong enough word to express her emotions. Clarke’s warm breaths at her throat suddenly weren’t enough. She pulls Clarke to her by her hair and reconnects their mouths, lapping eagerly into the heat.

 

“I forgive you.” Is all Clarke says as they break apart and Lexa notices how Clarke’s breathing had sped up significantly. The fingers inside her twitch and curl and Lexa sees stars.

 

“But I’m not ready to be forgiven.” There are tears prickling at the back of Lexa’s eyes, but she swallows them down. _Be strong._ Clarke kisses her cheek and down her proud jawline. Her fingers speed up and angle just the right way. When Clarke’s thumb brushes along her clit, Lexa’s whole body spasms and she clenches hard around Clarke’s fingers. She tilts her head up and moans into Clarke’s mouth, fingers tangling into blonde hair. 

 

She’s satisfied and so so tired, and she tells herself that that’s why she didn’t pull away when Clarke snuggles into her side. Lexa notices vaguely how good it feels to have Clarke’s head tucked under her chin, arms around her body. She’s half asleep when she hears Clarke’s whisper.

 

“I’ve never hated you.”

 

 

//

 

 

Lexa’s gone when she wakes and she’s disoriented and worried as she looks around the room. _Shit, I probably shouldn’t have done that._ Clarke bites her lip as she wonders if she had scared Lexa off. Her underwear is a sticky mess from not being taken care of last night and she shifts on the bed uncomfortable. The clock reads a little past six in the morning and so she still has just under an hour before she has to report to her room. 

 

Kitchen duty is twice as gross as it sounds, but the one good part is that the kitchen ladies gossip and she gets to see what type of people pass in and out of the cafeteria. 

 

“It’s hilarious! I tell it to Bill all the time and he thinks it’s quite lame.”

 

“Really! You ought to give him a piece of your mind! Even though we’re stuck here, no one says you have to be his property!”

 

The other women make sounds of agreement and Clarke chances to look over at where they stood in a group of six around the giant cooking pot, cutting and peeling potatoes. _What do they mean stuck here?_ Clarke furrows her eyebrows and, in her moment of confusion, forgets to look away. Suddenly, an plump and older woman, Margo she learns, yells over at her, “What do you think you’re looking at?”

 

Clarke snaps her head back to her task of scrubbing a second giant pot, bitterly swishing the soapy water inside. 

 

“Can’t believe they stationed her here.” Margo mutters. “You’d think that means we need help. But we don’t! Don’t we ladies?”

 

A chorus of “Certainly not!’s” and “Never!’s” resonate through the room and Clarke is beginning to think that they’re all crazy. She’s been listening to them complain about their husbands for a good two weeks now and she thinks that she can trace their family histories back to the Golden Age. Mike won’t stop smoking in their room. Bobby’s got anger management issues and takes it out on the cat. Murray just needs to calm down, like honestly he is too excited all the time and it makes Ellen mad. 

 

“If it weren’t for 7A, I’d be long gone, but oh! My poor sister! I simply can’t leave,” wails another worker, Patty. The other workers make sounds of sympathy and agree, tossing more potato peels on the ground where Clarke will have to clean them up later when they’re all gone. 

 

“Yes, me too! My dear father. It would be an injustice to leave,” says Joanna. 

 

Clarke furrows her eyebrows again as she works at a particularly stubborn stain on the edge of the pot. This is new information. In her two weeks on kitchen duty, they had never brought up the issue as to why they were here. Clarke simply assumed it was because Cage offered them a good wage and a place to stay, but now she isn’t so sure. It seems like they weren’t kept in the dark like Clarke thought they were. It’s a good opportunity to learn more and she swivels around suddenly.

 

“Um, excuse me?” The ladies turn and look at her like they can’t quite believe that she is talking. Clarke’s gaze flickers back and forth between their faces. “What’s a 7A?”

 

The workers look at her like she has grown another head. There’s a beat where they sort of gawk at her and Clarke is beginning to feel like an ugly piece of art at an exhibit— intriguing in all the wrong ways.

 

“You better mind your own business girlie and keep those thoughts in that pretty little head of yours.” Margo growls as she advances on her. Clarke throws down the sponge and turns to face her defiantly. “7A means nothing to you. You’ve never heard of it and you will never mention it. Do you understand?”

 

Clarke clenches her jaw and gives a sharp nod and Margo shifts back an inch. “Good. Now I want you to scrub two more pots for interrupting our conversation.”

 

Clarke has to bite her tongue hard to keep back her retort. She’s seething at the injustice of it all, but there’s nothing more to do and an outburst on her end will only make the situation worse. Margo swivels around, waving her hand as she goes and Clarke picks up the sponge again. She can still hear them conversing behind her although it is significantly more muted than before. 

 

“You mean to say she really doesn’t know?” One whispers.

 

“I thought you said that one of her loved ones is in there as well.”

 

“That’s what I was told by Billy.”

 

“So she’s an outsider?”

 

“My guess is she was sent here to spy on us. Keep us in check.” Clarke rolls her eyes at this.

 

“In that case shouldn’t we be more careful? Treat her a bit better?”

 

“No.” It’s Margo. “She is not one of us.”

 

“In that case, let’s just keep an eye on her.”

 

Clarke is acutely aware of the prickling sensation at the back of her neck that tells her that all six pairs of eyes have turned to stare at her. It’s only when she silently curses Cage for assigning her and Lexa to different rooms that the realization hits her. Her eyes widen and her hands jerk violently, sending a spray of water down her front. 

 

_7A! That’s a room!_

 

Her chest is wet and uncomfortable from the soap. A glance at the clock has her sighing in relief. 

 

“I’ll take my break.” 

 

She doesn’t wait for an answer as she tosses the sponge aside and practically sprints out of the room. 

 

“Wonder what’s wrong with her all of a sudden.”

 

“Margo’s scared her off probably.”

 

A round of laughter follows her, but she doesn’t pay it any mind. _Where are you, Lexa?_


	6. 7A

She almost dies when she sees her. 4A is a fucking sauna. The heating room is loud and sweltering and Clarke is barely inside before she wants to step back out. _Jesus Christ, why would they make people work in here?_ Lexa had told her it was hot, but the way she said it and the heat that was making her clothing stick to her skin was evidently not the same. Lexa’s in the back of the room, barely wearing any of her work clothes, and the ones she is wearing is soaked in sweat. Clarke’s eyes rake over the lean muscles the flex as Lexa scrubs a greasy tank, the black oil coming off and coating her fingers. Streaks of it can be found in her hair, which she undoubtedly batted away with her hands, and her arms. 

 

The tan shirt that they are assigned for work is dirty and discarded in a corner and Lexa is left clad only in a tight, black tank-top, and her tan trousers. Sweat drips down Lexa’s neck and arms and Clarke stomach coils tightly. _Why the hell is she so hot?_ Clarke clenches her jaw when she almost forgets what she came for, but then she sets her jaw determinedly _._ Lexa doesn’t hear her coming. The rumbling of the machinery is too loud. And when Clarke rests a hand on her shoulder, Lexa jerks in surprise. Clarke watches as her eyes widen comically and then narrow. She yelps as Lexa grabs her wrist suddenly and drags her deeper into the room through a small door that led to a utility closet. Lexa closes the door hastily before spinning around to face her.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?” She hisses, wiping at her face with her forearms. The machinery is drowned out through the door so that they can hear each other better and Clarke rubs the grease off her wrist with a grimace. 

 

“I came to visit you.”

 

“Visit me?” Lexa pulls at the front of her tank top to get some air against her skin, but it does little to stop her sweating. Clarke’s mouth parts as she eyes the small beads of sweat clinging to Lexa’s collarbones and the side of her neck. It isn’t until Lexa waves a hand in front of her face does she realize she’s staring. “Hello? Are you trying to get us both whipped again?”

 

Oh. Lexa’s angry at her. She swallows a bit difficultly as she shakes her head. _Focus._

 

“No. I overheard something important.”

 

“Uh huh.” Lexa’s stands barely two feet away, hands on her hips, regarding her with skepticism. “From the lunch ladies I assume?”

 

Clarke makes a face. “Don’t call them that. It reminds me of home. Did you know that they’re stuck here?”

 

“Stuck here?” 

 

“Yeah, I thought they were paid or something, but apparently they’re only here because they think something going on in room 7A.”

 

“What?” Lexa’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Clarke, you’re not making any sense.”

 

The room is small, barely enough for them to stand apart from one another, and it is overheating fast. Clarke feels her skin becoming slick and taps her foot impatiently. Her break time is running out. 

 

“Just. I’ll explain it to you when we’re back in our room. I just wanted to ask if you had seen room 7A when you were cleaning. You walk through the halls to get to certain rooms right?”

 

“Right,” Lexa shifts closer and suddenly its too suffocating. Clarke watches as the green in Lexa’s eyes become brighter as she steps more directly under the light from the single lightbulb hanging over their heads. “But no. I’ve never even gotten to the 7’s. The farthest I’ve gone is 5B and that’s in a residential area.”

 

“Mhm.” Clarke hums absentmindedly, eyes on the trail of grease that is beginning to slide down Lexa’s face with her sweat. She reaches out to rub it away. Lexa’s throat bobs as her fingers brush gently against her cheek and they stare at each other in a charged silence. If it were one of those silly cartoon movies, she is sure that there would be sparks flying between their faces and Clarke can’t resist it anymore. Stretching up on her toes, she presses a chaste kiss to Lexa’s lips, enjoying the way her green eyes immediately flutter shut and she leans closer. When she pulls back, Lexa chases after her lips and Clarke’s hands snap up to grip Lexa’s forearms from where they were attempting to wrap around her waist. 

 

“Nope. If I have grease on my clothes, it’s going to be a dead give away.” 

  
She ignores the way Lexa’s eyes shine in the light and how her lips curve into a perfect pout. “I… have to go…” Even as she says it, Clarke leans back up and presses another kiss to Lexa’s lips, hoping the pout will go away. This time, when Lexa leans in, she doesn’t pull back. In fact, Clarke yearns to press herself against her because their current position is super awkward. They’re not touching anywhere else except for their lips and where Clarke’s hands are still closed around Lexa’s forearms. Clarke longs to feel those lean muscles wrapped around her, but the current state of Lexa’s clothes makes it impossible to do so. 

 

Clarke pulls back reluctantly and Lexa’s eyes are hooded and still focused on her lips. She doesn’t know what they’re doing. Somewhere, somehow, the lines are blurring and Clarke is vaguely aware that they need to have a proper conversation about… whatever it is they are and would be. But now’s not the time. They need to focus on getting out and keeping themselves safe.

 

“Tonight.” She promises, before moving past Lexa and slipping out of the utility closet. If she smiles a bit more when she returns to the kitchen and if, somehow, a streak of engine grease does find itself streaked across her shoulder, the kitchen ladies make no comment and so doesn’t she.

 

 

//

 

 

“You’re telling me there’s some kind of incentive for them to be here, but it isn’t money?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“What did you say before? Something about someone’s sister?”

“Yeah,” Clarke sighs, shifting on the bed. “Apparently one of the workers says her sister is in 7A. And then another one said her grandfather is too. I don’t really know what it means though.”

 

Lexa paces the floor in front of her. “What if their families are stuck in that room and they’re also trying to get them out? Couldn’t we work with them then? We would have a common goal: getting out of this wretched place.”

 

“No.” Clarke frowns. “Doesn’t seem right. Joanna complains about her husband all the time and I think he’s a guard.” 

 

“So then their family is not being held captive. But didn’t you say she asked if your loved one was in there too?”

 

“She didn’t ask. I just sort of… overheard. But yeah, so I think what they all have in common is that someone they love needs to be here for whatever reason and so they’re stuck here with them. But that’s suspicious. Why can’t they come and go as they like? What’s got so many people chained to this building?” Clarke bites her lip thoughtfully. “We need to find out what’s going on in 7A.”

 

“I thought you said we needed to get out.” Lexa pinches the bridge of her nose and comes to a stop in front of her. “Who cares about them, Clarke? Let’s worry about us.”

 

“That’s the thing. I thought that too. But what if they’re in the same position as us?” Clarke’s snap up to meet Lexa’s. “A band of workers, women and men alike, is way more powerful than two teenage girls. If we can get them on our side, our chances of breaking out just increased a thousand times! What the kitchen workers said proves that not all of Cage’s workers are on his side. This is huge, Lexa!”

 

The more she talks, the more she is convinced she is right. Something definitely does not add up and Clarke is determined to find out what. 

 

“Did you get the rope?”

 

Lexa grumbles and nods and to Clarke’s surprise, begins to pull down her pants. 

 

“Wh-what are you doing?” Clarke’s eyes widen as Lexa tosses the garment aside and reveals two legs with rope wounded tightly around them. She watches as Lexa untangles them, producing two twenty-feet long coils of rope. Lexa groans as she stretches her legs out in newfound freedom.

 

“Smart.” Clarke mutters as she takes the rope from Lexa, winds them around neatly, and hangs the on small, metal sticks protruding from the underside of their mattress. 

 

“I got you something.” She nods towards the nightstand. Lexa curiously walks over and her eyes light up once she sees what’s placed there. 

 

“Pie?” Lexa is smiling like a child as she picks up the paper plate. Clarke tries not to reprimand her as she uses her dirt fingers to bring it to her mouth. Lexa lets out a groan of appreciation and Clarke has to bite the inside of her cheeks to keep from laughing. 

  
“How the hell did you sneak this out?” Lexa says through a mouthful of blueberry pie. The sticky insides cling to her lips.

 

“I didn’t,” Clarke shrugs, “I just walked out and chanced it. The guards were changing shifts so I guess I was lucky.”

 

She doesn’t tell her how she had to duck into the men’s bathroom to avoid getting caught because she wants Lexa to be able to enjoy her pie. Once Lexa finishes, she lets out a small sigh, setting the plate back down on the table. 

 

“It was really good.” Lexa mumbles, looking longingly at the empty plate. 

 

“It’s only microwaved frozen food, Lexa.” Clarke laughs.

 

“I know, but they don’t serve anything good here!”

 

“Hey, watch it. You’re talking to a kitchen worker.”

 

Lexa scoffs and then says seriously, “You shouldn’t do that again. It’s not worth getting caught for.” She turns away. “I’m going to take a shower.”

 

Clarke tries not to feel too disappointed as Lexa walks towards the bathroom. But then Lexa pokes her head back out the door. 

 

“And Clarke.” Lexa’s expression is tender. “Thank you.”

 

She thinks that Lexa is definitely worth getting caught for. 

 

 

//

 

 

_“Why do you keep staring at her like that?” Raven speaks with her mouth full, sloppily wiping at the corner of her mouth and Clarke wrinkles her nose._

 

_“Staring at who?”_

 

_“Don’t ‘staring at who’ me. You know damn well who I’m talking about.” Raven looks over annoyed and juts her chin out towards the person she’s referring to across the room._

 

_“Lexa? She- I-” Clarke blushes and stutters, embarrassed at having been caught._

 

_“No, the other brunette you’ve been drooling over.”_

 

_“Drooling over?” Bellamy slides into the seat next to them. “Who’s drooling over who?”_

 

_“Clarke’s drooling over Lexa.”_

 

_“Clarke’s drooling over Lexa?” Octavia plops down, tugging Raven in for a hug._

 

_“Oh my god.” Clarke covers her face. “I’m not drooling over anyone, especially not Lexa.”_

 

_Bellamy makes a face. “I thought you hated her?”_

 

_“See?” Clarke pushes her hand towards Bellamy. “Thank you. She’s got to be the most infuriating person I’ve ever met in my entire life.”_

 

_Octavia snorts. “What’s she done to you again? I just remember you moaning to us after every break about how she annoys you, but I mean, you never really tell us why,” she asks curiously. True. Because Clarke doesn’t really know why either._

 

_“It’s complicated,” Clarke sighs, stabbing at her orange chicken moodily. School lunches suck. “It’s just… a thing. We were born hating each other and neither of us wants to be the one to break the streak.”_

 

_Bellamy nods like it’s the most sensible thing ever, but Octavia scoffs from beside her. “That’s a stupid reason to hate someone. I mean I know she’s not the most friendly person ever-”_

 

_“You mean a total bitch?” Raven chimes in._

 

_“No,” Octavia rounds on her, arm slipping from where it had been slung over Raven’s shoulders, and she’s surprisingly passionate. “She’s actually really nice… and smart. We worked together on a history project and she did almost all the work.”_

 

_“You sure that’s not just your GPA talking? I know Woods has a killer academic profile.” Bellamy says between bites of his sandwich. “I TA for her English class and her writing is amazing, but that doesn’t mean she can’t still be a bitch. I saw her staring down a senior the other day who was twice her size. Scary.”_

 

_Clarke rolls her eyes. “She’s not scary.” She thinks about Lexa’s black eyeliner and mean jawline and swallows. “She’s just… frustrating.”_

 

_“So you said.” Raven eyes her in amusement. “Perhaps it’s… sexual frustration?”_

 

_Clarke growls and Raven hold her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. Cool it, Griffs, I was just joking.”_

 

 _Clarke glances back at Lexa from across the hall and finds that a pair of green eyes are already staring at her. She jolts in her seat like she’s hit by lightning and Lexa quickly looks away. She can swear that she sees a muted light pink color settling high on Lexa’s cheekbones and it makes her all the more attractive. Clarke bites her lip and rubs her thighs together warily. Lexa’s table is vacant save for Anya who sits across from her. If Clarke really wanted to, she could march over there and…_ Snap out of it! What are you going to do? Kiss her in the middle of the cafeteria? This is Lexa Woods, you idiot! Your enemy!?

 

_“You okay there, Clarke?”_

 

_Bellamy leans towards her, eyebrows furrowed worriedly. Somewhere in her moment with Lexa, she had completely missed Raven and Octavia leaving the table. Now it’s just her and Bellamy and Clarke gulps at his question._

 

_“Yeah, yeah. I was just… wondering if you’d like to hang out after school tomorrow?”_

 

_Bellamy looks surprised and pleased at her offer and nods his head twice, dark curls bouncing around charmingly. “Sure, princess.”_

 

_He pulls her towards him in a hug and it’s warm and nice, but when she looks up from over his shoulder, her eyes meet green once again and she’s left wanting. Lexa’s eyes narrow as she takes them in and Clarke’s breathing hitches. She wants to trace her fingertips all over Lexa’s sharp, prominent features and suddenly, she feels uncomfortable in Bellamy’s embrace._

 

_“See you later then.” He says pulling back and offering her a smile._

 

_Clarke’s returning smile is forced, but luckily Bellamy doesn’t seem to notice as he swivels around and starts walking off to class. She might have the decency to feel bad, but her mind has long since flown to somewhere else. Somewhere where she can gaze into those captivating green eyes without consequences._

 

 

//

 

 

It’s almost an entire week before their next important break comes. Both Clarke and Lexa constantly smuggle back all that they can and the space underneath their bed is getting crowded with supplies. Once, Alecki had came into their room and Clarke almost had a heart attack. But luckily, it was only to deliver a personal message from Cage that, to Clarke’s horror, their plan to break into the vault is almost complete. 

 

“I found it.” Lexa says breathlessly as she bursts through the door. “The 7 wing, I found it!”

 

Clarke shoots up from the bed, all sleepiness drained from her system. “You did? Did you see what’s in the room?”

 

“No, no.” Lexa scrunches her eyebrows and immediately begins pacing again. “That’s the strange thing. There is no 7A.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“I walked all the way down the corridor and then all the way back, twice. Where 6 ends at 6K, 7 starts with 7B. I must have stood outside the space between those two doors for a good fifteen minutes, but there’s nothing.”

 

No. Something’s not right. And this is all the proof that she needs. 

 

“Doesn’t make sense.” Clarke shakes her head. Clarke rolls off the bed and bends down to retrieve a small wad of rolled up paper and an equally as miniature pencil. “Can you show me where it is?”

 

She unrolls the paper and spreads it out on the desk. Throughout the past week, they had been working hard to create a map of the building. Lexa walks over and extends the lines that they had drawn near the west side of the building, erasing some of the ones that she believes are no longer accurate. 

 

“There.” She draws a circle somewhere in the maze of corridors and Clarke squints at the paper. 

 

“Isn’t that past the civilian zone?” 

 

Lexa nods. “There were twice as many guards.”

 

“So did you clean the other rooms?”

  
  
“No.” Lexa says. “The other custodians wouldn’t let me in. I stayed outside to help them change the dirty water.”

 

Clarke grits her teeth and Lexa eyes her warily. She must have sensed her change in mood because she warns, “Clarke, don’t.”

 

“We have to. This is just proof that something’s off. What if the only thing keeping all those workers and guards here is a lie? I have to go check it out.”

 

“You don’t need to. I can go next time there’s a cleaning assignment.” Lexa clenches her jaw.

 

“When is that going to be though? Another week? Two weeks? Cage is already close to breaking the safe. We can’t chance it anymore.”

 

“You’re going to get caught!” Lexa hisses, frustration finally leaking through.

 

“No, I won’t! I’ll be careful!” 

 

She’s moving off the bed and refolding the map. She rolls it around the pencil and puts it back in the niche under the bed. 

 

“Clarke!” But Clarke’s mind is already made up and she hastily paws at some things she needs from their supply stash. _Something colorful, distracting._ “Clarke!”

 

If only she can get through the “Civilians Prohibited” line, she can probably pass off as another custodian. But to get through that, she’s going to need some type of distraction. But when she looks up, Lexa’s eyes are frantic. Enough so that Clarke pauses momentarily to indulge her. 

 

“What?”

 

“Please don’t.” Lexa whispers and its a plea that stops Clarke dead in her tracks. Her mind has already worked out multiple different scenarios of her breaks tomorrow during work.

 

“Lexa…” She takes a step closer and Lexa’s eye harden, though there’s still worry in her posture. “This is our best chance at getting out, if not our only chance. I’m doing this for us.”

 

Lexa swallows and lets out an unsteady breath.

 

“Let _me_ do this.” She says. “They’re probably going to have us clean there soon. Marty says we didn’t do a very good job. So I can,” Lexa takes a breath, “I can check it out again. Do you trust me?”

 

Clarke bites her lip. Her eyes traces over features that she is so familiar with. The little glint in Lexa’s eyes hold her captive as she thinks about all the times that Lexa has yelled at her, ignored her, left her. But then all the times that she had cared for her. Begrudgingly handing her half of her candy bar when Clarke’s fell to the ground, getting her water when she’s weak and delirious from sickness, allowing her to copy her notes even as she rolls her eyes and reprimands her. It comes only with a second of hesitation.

 

“Yes.” 

 

“Then let me do this.” Lexa presses in insistently, fingers coming rest under Clarke’s chin, tilting it upwards so that all Clarke can see is green. “You’ll get caught, but I won’t. We just need to wait.”

 

Clarke purses her lips as she gazes up at her. Lexa’s fingers are warm and familiar and doing things to her that they shouldn’t be able to do. Her breathing stutters when Lexa’s tongue pokes out to wet her lips and she swallows thickly. 

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay?” Lexa’s looking at her like she’s won the lottery and can’t quite believe it. It makes Clarke’s heart flip pleasantly.

 

“Okay,” she repeats, firmer this time.

 

Lexa moves all at once, tugging Clarke towards her and wrapping her arms around her waist. Clarke stumbles before her arms rest on Lexa’s shoulders and they squeeze. She doesn’t remember the last time they had hugged and certainly doesn’t remember it feeling this good. 

 

 

//

 

 

Lexa’s hands sting from the bleach and other chemicals in the water, but she knows better than to complain. 

 

“Alright, on to the 3 wing!” Marty shouts at the workers and Lexa sighs in frustration. It’s only been three days, but Lexa’s beginning to get impatient. If they did a bad job on the 7 wing, why weren’t they going back? The 3 wing is the workers’ wing— the sewing room, the engineering hall. _The kitchen._ Lexa thinks of blonde hair and blue eyes and bites her lip at the churning in her stomach that now she’s beginning to understand. 

 

“Hey squirt! Come push the cart, will you?”

 

Lexa moves over and grabs the handles of the cart that held four tubs of water aligned in a square. They move along the corridors. There’s only nine of them added together and they’re supposed to cover two wings a day. It’s rather exhausting. 

 

“You okay?” Marty walks alongside her, pushing another identical cart. He’s in his forties, if Lexa were to guess. Strong and buff, wide shoulders, gruff and uneven beard. The only thing that stops him from being a guard would be his leg, which he gives away by his heavy limp. Lexa glances around. The guards along the hallway are moving silently. They weren’t supposed to talk, but for some reason, Marty has always been looking out for her one way or another. Lexa nods.

 

“Fine,” she whispers, looking directly ahead. “My hands sting a bit from the water.”

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Marty nod and then he says, “Later I’ll give you some cream. My hands used to hurt just the same when I first started, but you get used to it.”

 

 _They’re not all trying to hurt us._ Clarke’s words echo at her and when she glances back at Marty to find him frowning down at the water, she begins to believe her. They walk in silence for a period, only broken by Marty’s occasional shout to change direction. Lexa wonders how long they’ve all been down here. By the way Marty strolls down the halls like they’re home, she doesn’t think that it’s any short period. They clean and work wordlessly and Lexa’s shoulders are already used to the labor. It’s been almost a month and her muscles have adapted well enough so that she doesn’t feel the burn. She’s also developed a new skill— telling time without the sun. About now, she judges it to be around six, and she’s not too off as Marty soon calls them to speed up if they want to get back by dinner at six-thirty. 

 

A couple minutes later they’re done and they make the journey back in a similar fashion. A thin sheen of sweat sticks to Lexa’s skin, but it’s nowhere as bad as her time in the heating room. Her breathing is deep and steady as her heart pounds in her chest. She no longer drags her feet at the end of the day, a feat that makes her especially proud, and judging by the small smile Marty shoots her as she wheels her cart (washed clean) into the storage room, he is too. 

 

“Alright, get your sorry asses out of my sight! The mashed potatoes wait for no one!” Marty shouts at the workers. There’s easy chatter amongst the workers, having finally been dismissed from their tense work environment. Lexa can tell that they all know each other well. In a lower voice Marty adds, “Lexa. Wait a moment.”

 

She stays and true to her word, once the seven other adults file out of the room, Marty produces a small container of cream from his pocket. “Once a day. No more. It’s going to feel good after you put it on, but too much will cause the skin to crack.”

 

Lexa nods. “Thank you.” She begins to turn away when Marty calls her back again.

 

“Are you looking for something in the 7 wing?” He asks, leaning back against a rusty tank. Lexa’s heart jolts and she looks at him in shock. Marty chuckles. “You should try being more subtle when you pause between rooms. The guards may not have noticed, but other workers will.”

 

On a whim, Lexa blurts out. “Do you know anything about room 7A?”

 

She immediately regrets her decision as Marty’s gaze hardens and he turns to glare at the open storage door. The hand on the machine behind him clenches. 

 

“I would be careful what you ask me,” he says slowly. “Though you work harder than all of those other workers put together, do not forget who is in charge. I would be sorry to see you get transferred.”

 

“Sorry, sir.” Lexa swallows, ducking her head in shame. The container of cream burns in her hand as she heads towards the door. She’s halfway across the room when Marty speaks again.

 

“Don’t look for it,” he calls from behind her and his voice is low, bitter almost. “You won’t like what you find.”

 

His tone sends chills through her body, but she doesn’t look back as she exits the room. 

 

_It’s real! 7A is real._

 

 

//

 

 

Clarke comes back to their room one day in handcuffs and Lexa’s heart jolts to her throat. She launches off the bed as the guards march her in and there’s a huge bruise on her cheek. Lexa doesn’t remember the last time she has felt this scared. 

 

“What the fuck?” Lexa demands, staring at the guards in fury. 

 

Clarke’s glaring at the ground and the handcuffs come off wordlessly. 

 

“She will not be punished. We were simply asked to escort her back.” Alecki steps into the room and his eyes sweep across the living space. For the first time, he is completely hostile. The neutral tone usually in his voice is replaced with distrust and it sends shivers down Lexa’s spine. No one moves. 

 

“Check under the bed.” Alecki says quietly. 

 

The guards move in and Lexa watches helplessly as they drag out item after item— canned foods, rope, folded shirts, pants, canteens, everything they had. 

 

“Well done.” Alecki is angry. There is no doubt about it. She can tell by the hardening of his gaze and the clenching of his jaw. “Your rations have been cut by half for the next two weeks in compensation for the resources you stole.” 

 

The guards give Clarke a shove before they exit the room, Alecki leaving last and shooting Lexa a look. _Do not step out of line again._ It is a warning if Lexa has ever seen one. They got off easy this time, and Alecki’s gaze tells her that they won’t the next. But Clarke is alive, breathing, and Lexa is extremely thankful, though it doesn’t stop her from being angry. All of their hard work since day one has gone to waste. 

 

“What the hell did you do?” She swivels on Clarke, fuming silently. 

 

“I got caught.” There’s something in the nonchalant, matter-of-fact way that she says it that makes Lexa even more furious. 

 

“You got caught?” She hisses. “I thought we agreed that I would take care of this.”

 

Clarke can’t meet her eyes and there’s a part of her that feels bad as she eyes the bruise on her cheek, but it’s buried well under her frustration. She’s a silent storm. 

 

“I don’t even want to know how. I told you the moment you put that stupid thought in your mind, that you were going to get caught. Why don’t you ever listen to me?” Lexa pinches the bridge of her nose again. “We’ve lost everything, Clarke. _Everything._ All our efforts have gone to waste.”

 

“We can start over. Get all the supplies back again.”

 

It must be the fact that Clarke _still_ isn’t apologizing that rubs Lexa the wrong way because she grits her teeth. “Do you not understand that it will now be infinitely harder to sneak everything back? If it wasn’t hard enough already, now it’s going to be impossible!”

 

Clarke shrinks back and finally meets her eyes. “I know, Lexa, I-”

 

“Why did you go? I thought you said you trusted me.”

 

“I do, I just-”

 

“Do you think that I enjoy having rope around my legs all day?”

 

“Lexa-”

 

“Or wearing three layers in that damn heating room?”

 

“No, I-”

 

“It’s like you think this some kind of game.”

“Lexa-”

 

“It’s time to _wake up,_ Clarke. This is reality! We’re really stuck here and we really need to get out!”

 

“LEXA!”

 

Clarke’s crying and Lexa clenches and unclenches her hands. They’re sweaty and gross and Lexa feels like curling up into a ball to get away from this world. Her head hurts, her heart hurts, everywhere just hurts and she hates seeing Clarke like that— broken and in pain. 

 

“I’m _sorry._ ” Clarke gasps. Her breathing is shaky and the tear tracks on her cheeks run through a purple splotch. Lexa bites her tongue and trains her gaze on the wall. She can’t stand to look at her right now. Not while they just lost everything. Not while they still haven’t found a way out. Not while Clarke could have _died_ breaking into that room. “But I didn’t get caught breaking into 7A.”

 

Lexa jolts in surprise. Her eyebrows furrow, but her gaze doesn’t move from the white paint. 

 

“I-I was trying to bring you dessert.” Clarke looks away. “I found a couple of slices of peach cobbler and god,” she laughs humorlessly, “That’s your favorite.”

 

And just like that, the anger drains out of her. There’s a sinking feeling in Lexa’s gut and she feels like throwing up. All her yelling comes back to slap her in the face and suddenly, the room is too hot, suffocating her like the inside of an oven. She opens her mouth to speak, but Clarke beats her to it.

 

“And I know you said not to risk it, but we were doing so well and we almost had everything we needed. And you’ve been so stressed about finding the room. I’m sorry, Lexa. You have every right to say I told you so.”

 

Lexa’s heart throbs and she feels like there’s acid in her lungs. “No… thats…” She scratches the back of her neck. “That’s not what I was going to say. I um-”

 

Clarke is curled against the wall and she looks so small and fragile. Lexa’s heart drops as Clarke flinches when she comes nearer. She settles for standing close and waits until Clarke looks up at her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.”

 

It’s a poor apology, but Lexa has never been good with words. Clarke nods and doesn’t meet her eyes, so she swallows and tries again.

 

“When you walked in chained and bruised and the guards were digging under the bed, all I could think about was how you were still alive. Everything else didn’t matter.” Lexa mutters as she cups Clarke’s face with her hands, aware of how Clarke’s gaze dips to her mouth. “The funny thing is I knew you were going to do something reckless. I knew because I-”

 

She chokes. _No. I can’t._ Clarke’s eyes snap up to meet hers again. Lexa’s head is suddenly spinning and she breathes deeply, hoping that it’ll stop. The room around her blurs until she can only see the blue of Clarke’s irises. And still, she can’t bring herself to say it. 

 

“Because you’re you.” She finishes weakly. 

 

Somehow it still comes out like a confession and Lexa feels like she’s standing on thin ice. Her hands come down to press against the walls on either side of Clarke’s waist. They’re not touching, but close enough to feel each other’s warmth. She watches Clarke’s eyes as they sweep across her face, looking for some type of untruthfulness. Hears the little hitch in Clarke’s breath when she realizes that there is none.

 

“I like you.” Clarke whispers suddenly and Lexa’s heart stutters. That’s definitely a confession. Clarke presses a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth, pulling Lexa towards her by the back of her neck. Their bodies fit together perfectly and all of a sudden, Lexa feels overwhelmed. 

 

“Yeah well, I hate you.” She mutters and seven she can hear how unconvincing that sounded as she turns her head to kiss Clarke properly. She feels Clarke’s smile against her lips and it feels like a part of her has finally clicked. For a moment, she thinks about just spitting it out. Telling Clarke the extent of her feelings and what’s got her ready to explode. But it’s too frightening; a simple “like” isn’t what she is going for. So Lexa pushes off the wall, dragging Clarke with her, and stumbles towards the bed. Her fingers slip under Clarke’s shirt and yeah, this is a much more familiar way to express her feelings. But Clarke makes a sound of protest and breaks their kiss. 

 

“I haven’t showered yet.” She says breathlessly.

 

“Okay.” Lexa dips her head down and reconnects their lips as she changes their direction. Clarke giggles as they stumble through the bathroom door and gasps when Lexa’s hands slip under her shirt, thumbing the warm skin below. Lexa breaks the kiss to pull the shirt over Clarke’s head and she feels fingers tugging at shorts she wears to bed. They undress each other in silence, breaking eye contact only when they need to.  

 

Something about this feels different from the other times they have undressed in each other’s presence. They aren’t angry or busy hiding in the dark. Lexa’s heart beats steadily in her chest as she takes in Clarke and all of her beauty. She kisses a trail from Clarke’s collarbones to a sensitive part, just behind her ear and enjoys how Clarke’s breathing speeds up and how she pushes her into the shower impatiently, reaching behind her to turn on the water. They both gasp when the first jet of water comes out cold and hits their skin relentlessly. But gradually it warms to the right temperature and steam begins to float in the air. Lexa moans when Clarke leans forwards to nip at her earlobe. But then Clarke pulls away and  pushes her directly under the spray. She splutters and jerks her head out, glare faltering because Clarke is laughing at her, the sound echoing through the bathroom, low and melodious. 

 

“Kiss me.” Clarke orders and Lexa helplessly complies, capturing her bottom lip between hers and sucking greedily. The shower is heating up fast, but the warmth is comfortable, pressing against her skin like a blanket. The main set of lights weren’t turned on because of their haste and a single shower light shines down on them. She can feel Clarke’s entire body pressed against hers and she shivers unwillingly. Clarke reaches up and cups her face, slowing down the kiss so that it’s not as rough or as desperate. Their lips barely brush, yet Lexa is strangely content. She could continue to do this for the rest of her life, she thinks. 

 

But Clarke moves away to retrieve a bottle of shampoo on the shower ledge. She squeezes out some on her hand before snapping the lid shut and returning to Lexa. The stuff is thick as Lexa steals some from her hand and lathers it onto Clarke’s hair, helping her wash. Clarke leans back on Lexa with her eyes closed humming contentedly when Lexa massages her scalp in the right way. Lexa smiles when Clarke turns to face her, hair still wild with shampoo. The water rinses Clarke’s hair clean and then, finally, those cerulean eyes open to meet hers again and Lexa has to remember to breathe. 

 

“What are we doing, Clarke?” She murmurs quietly. Her voice is tight but her hands are soft as they stroke up Clarke’s hip and Clarke pauses.

 

“We… are trying to get out.” Clarke says, and Lexa knows that she’s trying to avoid the question.

 

“No, I mean. What are _we,_ ” she gestures between them, “doing. Am I just… Are you lonely?”

 

Lexa has never been more ineloquent, but luckily Clarke seems to get what she’s asking. The blond bites her lip and wipes her face clear from the tracks of water splashing here and there. 

 

“I told you, Lexa. I like you. We don’t have to put a label on this if you don’t want to. But,” she draws out, stepping closer and winding her arms around Lexa’s neck, “this.” Clarke presses her entire body against Lexa’s and Lexa has to bite back a moan. “This is amazing.” 

 

Clarke’s fingers insert themselves between them and trail down her stomach. Lexa’s eyes drop to her lips, those soft, kiss-swollen lips. Their mouths are only an inch away and Lexa can easily close that gap, but before she does, Clarke’s tongue flicks out and dances across her bottom lip. It happens so fast that Lexa thinks maybe she imagined it, but when she looks up, Clarke’s eyes are dancing with mischief. 

 

“This,” Clarke repeats as her fingers dip into her folds, “is fantastic. Mind blowing.” And Lexa can’t help but agree as her hips jolt forwards and she lets out a low growl. 

 

“Okay. I agree, but,” Lexa spins them around suddenly and presses Clarke back against the stone wall of the shower, enjoying the way she lets out a small gasp either in surprise or because the wall is cold. “Me first.”

 

She drops to her knees and grips the back of Clarke’s thighs, spreading her legs gently. She looks up at her and god, this might be her favorite view ever. Clarke’s chest is already moving up and down rapidly and she hasn’t even started yet. 

 

“I’m- oh! Very… very attracted to you.” Clarke stutters as she grips Lexa’s hair tightly. Lexa hums, the vibrations making Clarke’s legs shake. She smirks up at Clarke. 

 

“I know.”

 

 

//

 

 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

 

“Will somebody just fix that damn leak already!” Marty booms across the hall. The guards against the walls shift in warning, but a worker is already hurrying back with sealing tape to patch up Lexa’s leaking tub. She can’t pretend she’s ungrateful as she sighs in relief. The constant sound of dripping is beginning to get annoying. They round the corner of the 6 wing and Lexa’s heart beats a little faster. 

 

Finally. After five days of restless waiting, they had finally been issued the order to go back and clean the 7 wing. Lexa knows that today is likely the last chance she will get at finding out about the room and she is determined to make it count. Besides her, Marty eyes her warily. He seems to read her thoughts because he orders her to walk with him in the back, rather than letting her take a position in the middle of the line like she usually did. 

 

“Alright! Fan out! You all know the drill for 7 wing. One per room!” 

 

Just a customary reminder for their formation that Lexa had already memorized days ago. She walks speedily down the hall, eyeing the numbers with such intensity that she is a little surprised she hasn’t burned a hole into the wall yet. Marty trails her. She’s not bothered by it because she doesn’t know if she will be able to find the room in the first place. 

 

Sure enough, her first trip down the hall is same as the last four or five she took when they came last week— useless. There is no 7A. Lexa narrows her eyes and picks a random room, 7F, and swings the door open. She stumbles in without really looking and when she picks her head up, she is surprised and a little uncomfortable to find that it is an operating room. There are large lights on the ceiling surrounding a large metal operating table in the middle of the room. What disturbs her, though, is the eerie, green lighting that seems entirely out of place for a room that requires large amounts of light. And also the abundance of dark stains along the walls. It makes her stomach churn and she thinks that this room looks like it hasn't been used in a long time. 

 

Lexa sets her jaw and takes the rag from the bucket, wringing it dry twice. She sets to work first on the operation table, wiping it clean on all sides. There is nothing suspicious that comes off on her rag and she shrugs, getting used to the strangeness of it all. She realizes with a smile that her hands no longer sting. It seems like Marty’s cream had worked. 

 

It isn’t until she’s wiping the counter on the side of the room that she’s officially freaked out. She swipes along the under edge of a part of the counter that protrudes just slightly. The rag comes out red. 

 

“What the fuck?” She mutters, and she bends down to get a better look. The entire stretch of underside of the counter is painted red. She brings the cloth up to her nose and sniffs, and an unmistakeable coppery smell explodes into her nose. Blood. Lexa lets out a small gasp and scrambles back. _What the fuck!?_ She’s reminded of all those horror movies Clarke made her watch back in the summer before sophomore year. The creepy doctors with sharp scalpels that dig brutally into flesh, blood spraying everywhere. Lexa’s heart jumps into her throat and she backtracks until her body hits something solid. 

 

“Lexa.” Marty’s hand wraps around her elbow to steady her and when she turns, there’s a strange look in his eyes. “What are you doing in this room?”

“I’m- I-” Lexa stutters. “I’m cleaning it?”

“It’s prohibited territory.” Marty points to the open door and she sees the small plaque that she must’ve missed coming in. 

 

“Hey!” A guard stands behind them. “Marty, you better get your worker out of there or else I’ll have to report it to Cage.”

 

“Alright Billy, we’ll be out in a moment,” says Marty, spreading his hand out in a calming manner. He turns back to Lexa once the guard nods stiffly and continues down the hall. “What are you doing?”

 

“I told you, I was just cleaning. It was an honest mistake, Marty.” Lexa shrugs out of his grip and looks up at him apologetically. “I wasn’t looking for trouble.”

 

“Are you sure?” Marty’s gaze flickers around the room and Lexa furrows her eyebrows. _What does he mean? Of course. I’m on the job._ She cocks her head in confusion and is about to reply, but something glints in the corner of the room. She frowns and turns her head and that’s when she sees it. Lexa’s eyes widen as she spots, tucked cleverly in the corner of the room, another door. She thinks she’s hallucinating because for a moment, her vision blurs, but then it focuses on the golden scripture with surprising clarity.

 

7A.

 

She blinks twice, not quite believing her eyes, and then jolts forwards, letting out a strangled gasp. A hand clamps down harshly on her arm again and squeezes hard.

 

“No. We need to get out.” Marty growls. He tugs her back, but Lexa twists out of his grip, ignoring how Marty lets out a frustrated cry. She’s so close and he is not going to stop her now. 

 

“Lexa!” 

 

Sounds of scuffling behind her tells her that Marty is following her. But her hand falls down to the handle and she tugs hard. Marty’s footsteps stop. It’s too late.

 

The burst of air hitting her skin is so cold in comparison to the warm atmosphere in the hall that she gasps in surprise. The room is dark, darker even than the poorly lit 7F that she stands in and when her eyes adjust, her stomach drops. 7A is _huge_. Easily four times the other rooms that she has visited. She’s so entranced by its size that, at first, she doesn’t understand what she’s seeing, but the rows and rows of metal squares make apparent the purpose of the room. The realization comes crashing into her like a train wreck and suddenly, she feels sick. She scrambles weakly for the door handle again, desperate to forget the image, and Marty quietly comes up to stand besides her. Lexa doesn’t turn to look at him. She knows what she’ll see— anger, disgust, disapproval. And she doesn’t think she can handle it when her legs are shaking like they are now.

 

Her hand is unsteady and it feels like her body is someone else’s when she jerks the door and it slams closed. The cold air stops, but Lexa doesn’t move. She stands in front of the door in stunned silence. Her body feels numb when she finally turns to Marty and she finds him already staring at her. There’s the same strange expression on his face and it makes him distant, unreadable. Lexa clears her throat.

 

“You were right.” She croaks. And she doesn’t have to elaborate for Marty to understand what she is trying to say. He nods. 

 

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, tugging gently at Lexa’s elbow. She follows him without complaint, walking in a trance out of 7F. The guard nods in approval as the door swings shut behind them, but Lexa barely notices. 

 

Because Marty is right. 

 

_Don’t look for it. You won’t like what you find._

 

There is nothing in 7A. 

 

It’s a morgue.


	7. Realizations

“Alright! Good job on the hall! Tomorrow’s off as a reward!”

 

There’s a scatter of cheers from the workers before they file out the door. Lunch had already started since they got back late, but Lexa isn’t hungry. In fact, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be hungry again in her life. There’s a steady, low buzzing tone in her ears and the vibrations feel like they’re slowly making their way into her body, numbing it to the rest of the world. She remains behind once again when everyone leaves and is silently staring at the floor when Marty comes up to her. 

 

“You okay?”

 

Lexa nods, not really sure she’s ready to speak again. She hears him sigh and then there’s rustling besides her.

 

“Here.” She looks up to find Marty holding out another container of cream. She shakes her head. 

 

“I haven’t finished the last one yet.”

 

He seems to know this because he simply smiles. Pressing it insistently into her hand, he murmurs, “Use this one tonight.”

 

Something about the way he says it makes her swallow down her protests and her fingers clench tightly around the container, thumb drawing steady circles on the smooth lid. 

 

“See you tomorrow,” Marty says, spinning around. 

 

It isn’t until he’s halfway down the hall that Lexa remembers that tomorrow is their day off. 

 

 

//

 

 

“Hey,” Clarke mumbles sleepily as Lexa slides into bed next to her. 

 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Lexa says quietly as she brushes a hair away from Clarke’s face.

 

“No.” Clarke yawns. “I was waiting for you.”

 

Lexa smiles and shifts closer. “I… have something to tell you.”

 

“Oh? And what’s that?”

 

“Actually, I have a lot of things to tell you, but first,” Lexa takes a deep breath. “I found 7A.”

 

Clarke immediately jerks up and looks at her with wide eyes, sleepiness long forgotten. “You did!? Lexa that’s great!” Clarke is scrambling to sit up in the bed, eyes gleaming with excitement. But then she looks down and sees the hesitance in Lexa’s gaze, immediately quieting. “What’s wrong? You look like someone stole your pie.”

 

Lexa swallows. She remembers the chilly air caressing her face and involuntarily shivers. It had felt like she had been touched by death. The gloominess of the room, the dry atmosphere. The bodies… “Clarke.” 

 

The girl is looking at her in alarm and Lexa watches as she reaches out to touch her arm. “What is it?”

 

Lexa hesitates. _How the fuck am I supposed to tell her? Do I just spit it out?_ She can’t help but feel that that would be a little insensitive, but somehow, that’s what she ends up doing.

 

“The room is a morgue.” 

 

Clarke stiffens, but now that the dam is broken, the words keep tumbling out of Lexa’s mouth. “It was _huge_ , Clarke. There must have been a hundred slots lining the room. I got sick just looking at them, and god, it was so cold. I stood in the room and it felt like I was already dead.”

 

Lexa shivers again and Clarke moves closer so that her body pressed against Lexa’s, firm, comforting, and _there_ for her. She shrinks into her warmth gratefully and Clarke furrows her eyebrows. “Then what did those ladies mean when they were talking about their families?”

 

“I don’t know. There was certainly no one _alive_ in that room.” It was confusing to say the least. Especially when she walked in the room expecting it to hold all the answers to their problems, she had painted it not quite short of a decorated sanctuary.

 

“Shit,” Clarke sighs, running a hand frustratedly through her hair. “We’re getting nowhere. There’s got to be some way that we can get answers.”

 

Lexa purses her lips and her hand clenches. She stares at Clarke silently until the blonde blurts out, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

“Because there is.”

 

“What do you mean?” 

 

Lexa pulls her hand out from underneath the bed sheets and uncurls her fingers. In her palm rests a small, damp piece of paper and Clarke reaches out to take it. It’s about the size of a fortune cookie note and Clarke opens it delicately. Upon the paper is a smudged and hastily written scripture.

 

_2R 12:00 Bring food and the blonde. -M_

 

“What is this?” Clarke looks at Lexa in confusion.

 

“It’s Marty. He wants to meet us. He knows we have questions and he has the answers. He was the one who warned me about the room.”

 

“Is it safe? Twelve is your lunch right?” 

 

“I’m not working tomorrow. We have the day off so I’ll be with you the whole day.” Lexa says absentmindedly. Clarke made a good point. Marty had chosen their lunch break out of all the times that he could have chosen to meet even though they weren’t working. Perhaps he was just being considerate about Clarke’s schedule? She turns her head to tell her so, but she finds Clarke biting her lip and smiling at her.

 

“What?”

 

“You’d spend your whole day with me?” She teases and Lexa blushes. 

 

“Clarke.” Lexa reprimands. _Business first, flirting later._

 

Clarke lies back down next to her. “Okay, okay. So what about the guards? You can’t expect us to cross two halls without being caught. Even one was pushing it when I visited you.”

 

“We’ll have to manage. We can figure it out tomorrow morning. I’m exhausted.” Lexa admits, leaning away to blow out the candle.

 

“Wait!” Clarke says and when Lexa turns back, Clarke hands her the note. “Burn it. Just in case.”

 

It’s a good idea. Lexa takes it from her and sets it into the flame gently, watching as the paper shrivels and crumbles to dust with a puff of smoke. Then she blows out the candle. She likes the candles, but she can tell that they only annoy Clarke. The lights in their room were programmed to turn off at 9:45, an entire hour too early for their nightly planning sessions, so they were absolutely necessary despite Clarke’s constant grumbling. 

 

“Tomorrow we figure out what the hell is going on in this place, but tonight… we rest.” Lexa says, turning back to wrap her arms around Clarke’s waist. She hears a small sound of agreement before Clarke leans into her. She’s asleep before she can count to five. 

 

 

//

 

 

She throws herself down on the bed and curls into a ball, sobs wracking through her body. Never in her life has she felt more like a failure.

 

“Raven.” The bed dips and Octavia is there reaching out for her, hand warm on her bicep.

 

“I saw her run off and I knew it was a bad idea! I should’ve followed her, Octavia.” 

 

Raven tears through the words like they hurt her, and they did. She finds it difficult to breathe. The hand on her bicep moves around in comforting circles and another arm wraps itself around her waist, pulling her flush against Octavia’s body. She was spooning her. And despite the multiple times Raven had imagined this moment, she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy it. Clarke was gone, and she had been too careless to look out for her. Raven emits another choked sound and curls into herself even more.

 

“It’s not your fault.” Octavia says firmly. “You didn’t know what was going to happen. None of us did. You can’t beat yourself up over something that was out of your control. Clarke is still out there, I can feel it! And as long as I’m still around, I’m going to keep looking for her.” 

 

Raven spins around to face her then. With teary eyes, she takes in Octavia’s disheveled look, the dark bags under her eyes, and the messy hair. She suddenly feels bad for shouting. They had all suffered and Octavia is probably in just as much pain as she is. None of them had gotten much sleep for the past few weeks. 

 

“I called out to her.” Raven croaks finally after a beat and usually she would berate herself for sounding so weak, but she’s exhausted and in pain. Her voice cracks in the end, but both girls ignore it. “She didn’t hear me, but I called out to her. I _did_!”

 

“I know, babe, I know.” Octavia murmurs and pulls Raven closer to her. For the first time in forever, Raven lets herself go and her head falls against Octavia’s shoulder and she just _cries._

 

They had tried everything. They went back to the football stadium, the bathroom, covered the entire thirty mile radius around their school both on foot and in cars. They’d called friends, friends of friends, teachers, nearly the entire student body that was at the game that night and even some of the opposing players. No luck, not a single clue. It’s like Clarke just dropped off the face of earth. The only item that they found were Clarke’s jeans and they were crumpled and juice stained and without a single fingerprint on them that wasn’t Clarke’s. Useless.

 

Octavia’s arms are tight around her and it gets in the way of her breathing, but the touch is so welcome that she can’t bring herself to pull away. They lie in silence, thankful for each others' presence.

 

“What if she’s gone?” Raven’s voice is empty when she finally speaks out.

 

“She’s not.” Octavia says resolutely and Raven can feel her jaw move against the side of her head, no doubt settling into one of those famous Blake jaw clenches. “Clarke is a survivor. And she has Lexa.” 

 

 _Lexa._ That’s another completely different point that Raven has difficulty making up her mind about. They disappeared from the same place at the same time and it didn’t take much thought for the investigator to announce that they were probably together. Raven decides that she is a bit calmer, if only a tiny fraction, knowing that Clarke had someone with her, even it that someone was Lexa out of all people.

 

“They’ll be alright.”

 

“They’ll be alright.” Raven echoes.

 

And they fall asleep together, completely and utterly exhausted. 

 

  
  
//

 

 

She wakes up really content. Probably the most content she has been her entire life. Lexa shifts her arms and there’s a lot of mumbling and a warm body snuggling closer to her. She twists her head and glances at the clock. Ugh. She had woken up just a few minutes before the alarm again, but in her defense, the lights turn on at six and though Clarke has no problem sleeping brightness against her eyelids, Lexa can’t. Lazily, she flips over and switches it off, laughing quietly at how Clarke’s arms tighten around her midsection, preventing her from really moving too far. 

 

“Clarke.” She croaks, voice hoarse from sleep. “Wake up.”

 

When Clarke only squeezes her tighter, Lexa huffs in annoyance, but she can already feel the warmth spreading through her chest. 

 

“You’re the one that’s going to be late, babe.”

 

The word slips out of her before she can stop it and she tenses up in horror. She really really hopes that Clarke didn’t notice. But she did, of course, and the girl lifts her head slowly, blonde waves brushing across Lexa’s chest. 

 

“What did you just call me?” Clarke smiles down at her sleepily and Lexa groans, covering her face with her hands.

 

“If I’d known _that_ would have woken you up, I’d have started saying it weeks ago.” She says to cover up her embarrassment. Clarke laughs and Lexa can feel fingers wrapping around her wrist and tugging lightly. Reluctantly, she lets Clarke draw her hands away from her face and Lexa lets out an unsteady breath as she looks up at her. It’s been seventeen years, but she is still struck by Clarke’s beauty, the effortless way she manages to look breathtaking even with sleep mussed hair and a little spot of drool on her chin. Clarke grins at her and the fingers still wrapped around her wrists start moving her arms up. Lexa swallows and lets her because really, when has she been able to deny Clarke Griffin anything. Lexa stares up at her in awe, admiring how she makes the harsh greenish beams from the ceiling lights look warm and soft against her skin. But as soon as Lexa’s arms are pinned on top of her head, Clarke jolts down and smacks wet kisses on her cheeks, and the moment is broken. She splutters and grimaces.

 

“Ew, Clarke! Gross!’’

 

She twists out of Clarke’s grip just as Clarke silences her with her mouth and Lexa’s protests die away. There’s always something special about kissing Clarke Griffin. Sometimes Clarke traces her lip with her tongue and Lexa sighs, sometimes she bites her lip and Lexa growls, sometimes their lips barely touch and Lexa pouts, but each time it’s different and Lexa can never get enough. She’s barely surprised when things escalate way too quickly and she gasping as Clarke nips down her neck, hands descending her body at a rapid pace.

 

“Clarke, stop. We need to… we need to get ready.” Her hips jerk upwards in search for contact and oh. She clenches her eyes shut as Clarke pushes her shirt up and her fingers trail lightly down her abdomen. _Fuck!_

 

“Clarke!” She warns again as slender fingers brush across her breasts. Her breathing is getting labored and bit by bit she feels her self control slipping away, as if sucked into the eager mouth of the girl before her. But she has to try again, for the sake of her dignity if little else. She can’t have Clarke Griffin pinning her down and fucking her whenever she wanted. That would be, oh! That would be _improper_.

“If you don't stop we're never going to leave this room," Lexa pants, biting back a groan. "And I swear I will like you even less if Cage gets angry at us again."

 

"Mmm..." Clarke agrees, licking down the smooth expanse of Lexa's stomach. "Too bad you already hate me, right?”

 

And that does it for her. With a drawn out groan, Lexa twists and slams Clarke back into the bed, ignoring the way she yelps in surprise. Lexa snatches the neckline of the pajama button up that Clarke is wearing and yanks it apart, a few buttons popping out and flying across the room. Her lips frantically suck marks down Clarke’s newly exposed chest where she hopes the work shirt will be able to cover. Clarke moans and arches into her, hands coming up to tangle in Lexa’s hair. She presses her breasts into Lexa’s face, encouraging her to ravage her as she would like. Lexa groans.

 

“You… drive… me… fucking… crazy.” She spits out between kisses down her chest and Clarke only moans in response, head thrown back into the pillow in pleasure. Lexa continues sucking and Clarke gets louder, bucking her hips upwards and _fuck,_ Lexa can’t bring herself to stop. But eventually she does because, god, they have work in thirty minutes. The kisses don’t stop until she’s got Clarke shaking and writhing on the bed sheets and only then does she jerk back suddenly. 

 

Lexa launches off the bed, stumbling and backing up frantically until her back hits the wall on the opposite side of the room. _Shit, shit, shit!_ She needs as much distance from Clarke as possible. Clarke whines at the loss and when Lexa looks back at her, wetness floods through her folds. Clarke is sitting in the middle of the bed, leaning back on her elbows, and just looking at her with an open mouth and hooded eyes. The sheets are kicked off to the side and she’s barely clothed, shirt torn open, revealing her soft, full breasts and the dark marks that Lexa had made earlier. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and her tiny shorts leave little to the imagination. Somewhere in that dark, animalistic look, Lexa feels a part of her wither. 

 

She groans and bites her lip, head thudding back against the wall. Despite the change in angle, her gaze never leaves Clarke’s. God, she is so fucking hot. Lexa’s eyes trace the path that _she_ had made along Clarke’s chest and her heart rate doubles.

 

“We can’t be late.” She forces out and the spot between her legs is wet and throbbing hard. She practically sprints across the room and doesn’t stop until the bathroom door is securely closed behind her. And only then does she drop her head into her hands and groan. 

 

_Clarke Griffin, what have you done to me?_

 

 

//

 

 

_“Lexa?”_

 

_Lexa stops mid-step and closes her eyes. Of course. She knew she had the shittiest luck anyways. Taking a deep breath, she composes herself._

 

_“Raven.” She says evenly, turning slowly to meet the brunette’s eyes._

 

_“What are you doing?” Raven asks, cocking her head to one side suspiciously._

 

“I’m… looking for something.”

 

_Raven raises an eyebrow. “In Clarke’s room?”_

 

_“Ah… yes, um, it’s my… hair tie. I left it here yesterday.” Lexa mumbles, shifting a bit to block the table behind her, or rather the item she had left on the table behind her. Raven narrows her eyes, scanning her movements calculatedly so that Lexa has to fight back the urge to squirm under her gaze._

 

_“What’s that?” Raven says suddenly, leaning to the side to see behind her._

 

_“What’s what?” Lexa snaps a bit too quickly to seem natural and she can tell that Raven knows she got her._

 

_“That slip you oh so smoothly slid onto Clarke’s desk before I walked in.”_

 

_Lexa’s shoulders slump and Raven shifts back to rest on the heels of her feet, smirking slightly. There is no way out of this one._

 

_“It’s a birthday card. I write one for her every year, so it’s not a big deal.” She brushes it off and tries to go for the nonchalant tone, but Raven is sharp and catches on quickly._

 

_“Why not just give it to her in person? I think she’s in the garage with Bellamy right now, I can take it down-”_

 

_“No!” Lexa says sharply and quickly corrects herself. “No, no. That’s fine. They’re working on a project and I wouldn’t want to intrude. She can see it on her own time.”_

 

_Lexa shifts uneasily from foot to foot, eyeing the exit longingly. The last thing she wants right now is to be around when Clarke receives and opens the card. No, she wants to be as far away as possible when that happens._

 

 _“You know for someone who says it’s, and I quote, ‘not a big deal,’  you seem_ really _nervous.” Raven says mildly, shifting back a bit so that Lexa’s path to the door is no longer blocked._

 

_“It’s just one of my bad characteristics. I worry a lot.” Lexa mutters. And luckily, Raven chooses to drop it and Lexa inches towards the door like a wild animal. She’s almost entirely out of the room when she hears Raven speak up._

 

_“You should just tell her you know.”_

 

_Lexa doesn’t turn back completely. “Tell her what?”_

 

 _“That you like her.” Raven shrugs, plopping down onto Clarke’s rolley chair and swiveling to face her. Her hands absentmindedly pick at the metal compass lying on the desk, tapping away at the dry hinges._ _Raven’s oblivious to the moment that Lexa closes herself off so she is surprised by the coldness of  her next words._

 

_“Mind your own business. I don’t like her. In fact, we both hate each other.” Lexa spits._

 

_“Woah there.” Raven drops the compass back onto the desk and spreads her hands out in front of her. “Easy. I’m just saying, it’s pretty obvious you and her have a thing.”_

 

 _When Lexa looks at her incredulously, Raven rolls her eyes. “Oh come on, I don’t remember the last time that Clarke has actually given two shits about someone to wait three hours in an overheating car_   _for them_.”

 

_Lexa blushes. It’s not her fault that a player had fainted from heatstroke. So the game took slightly longer than expected and Clarke had waited. Lexa failed to see why this was a big deal. She couldn't drive so it's not like she had anywhere else to go, right?_

 

 _“And,” Raven continues, voice dropping to a gentler tone. “I’m pretty sure she’s tired of fighting with you all the time, I can see it in her eyes. She wants to be friends with you. But you know Clarke, she’s as stubborn as a mule if not more. Just make the first move and save us all the pain of listening to her ramble about you_ all the damn time.”

 

_Lexa bites her lip and falls silent. She seems to consider it, but then—“That’s something you’re going to have to deal with. It’s too late for us to be friends. We’ve already spent the last fifteen years hating each other.”_

 

_The words leave a bitter taste on her tongue and she turns back around and marches down the hall, ignoring how her stomach churns. There’s an uncomfortable weight on her chest that she passes off as fatigue from a long day._

 

_She pretends not to hear Raven’s “it’s never too late” whispered into the air between them, both a condemnation and a prayer._

 

 

_//_

 

 

Clarke is angry. Very angry. And sexually frustrated. Her underwear is still damp from their last encounter and the entire time that they spend walking down the halls, she is struggling not to spin around and press Lexa against the walls. It’s very inconvenient. Especially because Lexa is going to be spending the _entire day_ with her.

 

And somehow, that’s also the thought that quiets the anger roiling in her chest and a gentle fondness seeps through in its place. Butterflies flutter in her stomach, but she snaps out of it before the feeling can take over and blinks rapidly. _Oh god, you’re turning me soft, Lexa,_ Clarke realizes in horror. Beside her Lexa matches her pace, fingers bumping against hers just a hint too often to be coincidental. Clarke rolls her eyes and grabs her hand, weaving her fingers through Lexa’s and reveling in the way the tips of Lexa’s ears burn red. _She’s such a dork._

 

It feels good to be in such close proximity and Clarke berates herself for being so needy all the time. It was never this way with anyone back at home. She was always the independent one and if anyone wanted a piece of Clarke Griffin, they would have to work for it. Clarke bites her lip and her grip tightens around Lexa’s hand just slightly. What in the name of God is happening to her? She had liked plenty of people. Boys, girls even, but they had never made her feel this way. Never even _compared_ to Lexa. 

 

Somewhere down the hall, she experiences a light whooshing sound in her ears that, later, she thinks might have been the blood rushing to her brain to support the immensity of the thought that came next.

 

  _I love her._

 

The words stab through her heart like a sword and she stumbles, doubling forwards like she’s been hit; the air is knocked out of her lungs and she can’t get it back. Can’t breathe. So stupid. So, so stupid.

 

“Clarke?” Lexa is looking at her in concern and fuck, she can’t look at her right now. Not when the words are on the tip of her tongue, waiting to fall out. Her heart pounds away in her chest and she is entirely too close to panicking. How the hell had she been so stupid? Clarke thinks back on all the times her stomach had turned when Lexa had looked her way or how her heart beat stuttered when Lexa smiled her small smile, and oh god. It was all right there. She has been in love with Lexa Woods for as long as she can remember. Clarke gulps and looks stiffly ahead, pulling Lexa along twice the pace they were walking before. Lexa stumbles after her in confusion. “Are you okay, Clarke?”

 

They’re almost at the room. “I’m fine.” She stutters, and finally, _finally_ they reach the open door of the kitchen. Clarke drops Lexa’s hand and she can breathe again. Squaring her shoulders, she enters the room to find the six ladies clustered around the one pot as usual. _At least this much hasn’t changed since my last trip down the hall_ , Clarke thinks, smiling weakly. 

 

“Oh you’re here. We were all betting you would be late.” Jane calls to her and the ladies behind her laugh. “Why don’t you beat some eggs? Breakfast starts in an hour, remember!”

 

Clarke nods and that’s when Lexa peeks her head in timidly before stepping fully into the room. The laughter stops. Clarke watches in fascination as all of the ladies stare at Lexa like she is the gleaming jewel at the bottom of the ocean, and maybe they’re not so far off. But Clarke’s stomach churns when Margo stands up suddenly and says in a honey-sweet voice, “And who’s this?”

 

Lexa clears her throat and lifts her chin. “I’m Lexa. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” She says formally. The ladies stare at her in silence as they take in her delicate features and air of confidence.

 

And then everything bursts into action again.

 

“Pleasure? Yes, yes! It is a pleasure!”

 

“I have never met anyone more pleasurable!”

 

“Lexa dear, would you like to have anything special for breakfast?”

 

“Did you hear her? She said it was a pleasure!”

 

Jane dances forwards and grabs Lexa’s arm, guiding her to the chopping table in the middle of the room and Clarke stands rooted to the ground, blinking in shock. Lexa shoots her a helpless look over her shoulder that screams _Help me!_ and under any other circumstance with any other _person_ , Clarke might have thought it was hilarious. But this is Lexa, and the beast inside Clarke roars angrily as Ellen holds out a package of bacon like it’s a gold medal and waves it in front of Lexa’s face proudly.

 

“Would you like some? Cage doesn’t allow us to serve it unless it’s a special occasion, but he doesn’t need to know.” Ellen winks conspiratorially and Clarke wants to yank the bacon from her hands. 

 

Scowling, she makes her way across the room to retrieve her apron and the ladies move around her like she’s not even in the room, their own tasks long forgotten. Everyone’s eyes are trained on Lexa and the thing is, Clarke can’t even be angry because she knows what it’s like to experience the ‘Lexa Effect.’ She knows exactly what it’s like to be so utterly mesmerized by Lexa. It doesn’t stop her from frowning and tying her apron on hastily. She moves over to grab two batches of eggs from the storage, a places them down on the counter with such force that they rattle in the container. 

 

“Clarke!” Margo barks and Clarke swivels around glaring. “Get your friend some orange juice from the pantry.”

 

“Oh, uh, no it’s fine. I’m not really thirsty.” Lexa stutters. 

 

“Nonsense! It’s my treat! The guards will never know.”

 

Lexa opens her mouth presumably to tell her again that she was fine, but Clarke cuts her off. “Wait here. I’ll get it for you.”

 

She thumbs along the cardboard boxes in the freezes and finds the one labeled “orange j.” Tearing into the side, she quickly grabs an entire carton and heads back. The room is just how she left it. The ladies are in a circle around Lexa, vying for her attention, and Lexa is in the middle of it all with wide eyes. Her shoulders seem to relax a little when she sees Clarke enter the room. 

 

“Here.” Clarke squeezes through the crowd and drops a cup down on the table. Immediately, a stream of orange juice trickles from the opened carton. 

 

“Tell me, Lexa, where are you assigned? What brings you here?

 

“Do you have the day off?”

 

Lexa answers in the short, concise way that she does and the women quiet to listen before bursting out in delighted conversation. Clarke spins away and opens the faucet, glaring daggers at the pot lies before her and scrubbing at the greasy edges with a little more force than strictly necessary. She begins to tune them out when Lexa says suddenly, “Clarke.”

 

The room goes silent and Margo spins around to stare at her in surprise like she had forgotten Clarke was even in the room. Lexa swallows nervously at the sudden silence before her jaw sets and she powers on. “Do you need help?”

 

Clarke opens her mouth to tell her no, a bitter taste on her tongue, but Margo beats her to it. “It’s just a pot, Lexa darling. Nothing that Clarke hasn’t cleaned by herself before. Am I right Clarke?”

 

Margo turns to her with a fierce smile, as if daring her to contradict. Clarke fights the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m fine.” She winces at the sharp tone to her voice, but turns back to her pot nevertheless. The ladies continue making conversation and clenches her jaw to keep from screaming at them. _They’ve never been that welcoming to me before!_ It isn’t until the pot slips out of her soapy hands for the fourth time, hitting the sink with a dull thud, that she hears the screeching of a chair being pushed back. Lexa’s at her side in less than a second, hand reaching over to take the pot and sponge from her wordlessly. Clarke looks at her in surprise and raises her eyebrows, but Lexa won’t meet her eyes and stares resolutely at the swirling water before her. 

 

The ladies grumble, but do not comment, turning to their tasks as well. 

 

“What a pretty girl.” She hears one sigh. Joanna probably. 

 

Clarke rinses her hands while turning to glance at Lexa. She doesn’t pay the workers any mind and instead scrubs hard at the pot, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. There’s a strand of hair hanging in front of her face and Clarke reaches out to brush it away, leaving a string of water across her forehead. Lexa jerks at her touch and snaps her eyes up. Green meets blue and Clarke looks away.

 

“What is it?” Lexa whispers, pausing and swiping her wrist across her forehead.

 

“It’s nothing.” Clarke grumbles, turning to get the soap, but Lexa’s fingers wrap smoothly around her wrist and she tugs her back lightly. 

 

“I know when something’s bothering you. You have that…" Lexa wrinkles her nose, "face. What’s wrong?” 

 

“I-” Clarke pauses.  _It never felt like this at home._ “Nothing, Lexa, it’s okay.”

 

“Clarke.” The sharpness in her voice snaps Clarke's head back up automatically and those emerald orbs are full of so much confusion that Clarke bites her lip indecisively before reaching for her arm and pulling her away from the ladies. They round the corner into the small storage area and Clarke turns to face her. Lexa’s eyes are on her even as she wipes her hands on her pants. 

 

“Tell me.” Lexa insists. “Please.” 

 

Clarke looks away and takes a deep breath. “This is going to sound stupid.” She grumbles, and when all Lexa does is continue to look at her impatiently, she continues. “I… just don’t like how they look at you.”

 

Lexa’s eyebrows shoot up and she opens her mouth to respond. 

 

“Like did you see them? They were all over you.” Clarke rushes out before Lexa can interrupt. “Look at my hash browns, wow, bet you never had _those_ before. No, take these green apples, they’re _green_ instead of red! Jesus Christ, Lexa, it’s like they’re in love with you.” Clarke mutters angrily, fixing her gaze on the metal post of a supply shelf and trying to burn a hole in it with her gaze. 

 

Two cool fingers slip under her chin and turn her face back. Clarke is even more enraged to find Lexa clenching and unclenching her jaw, shoulders shaking. _She’s laughing at me!_

 

“Wait, no Clarke.” Lexa gives up and starts laughing, pressing more firmly against Clarke’s chin to keep her from twisting away. “Did you say  _in love_ with me?"

 

"Shut up, Lexa. I knew this was a bad idea." Clarke grumbles, face red with shame and embarrassment. She wrenches her face away barely makes it half a step before Lexa grabs her elbow, pulling her back.

 

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry, but do you not hear how ridiculous you sound.” Lexa’s gentle laughter floats through the room and Clarke tries hard to stay angry, she really does, but it’s _Lexa_ and she’s _laughing_. Clarke huffs out a breath. 

 

“You’re jealous of a bunch of _old ladies,_ ” Lexa is giggling uncontrollably now and it’s so out of character that Clarke shakes her head and bites back a smile. 

 

“Hey, old ladies have game too, okay?” Clarke says and crosses her arms in front of her defensively. Lexa calms down a fraction.

 

“I don’t care if they have game, they’re old ladies.”

 

“So are you saying that you won’t like me when I’m an old lady?” Clarke challenges.

 

“I never said I liked you in the first place.” Lexa shoots back. Even though Lexa’s eyes are still shining with mirth, the retort still causes Clarke’s heart to clench. Really, it was a long shot to expect Lexa having any other feelings towards her other than pure physical attraction. 

 

“Hey.” She tried to school her expression into one that’s utterly indifferent, but when Clarke looks back at Lexa, all traces of mirth are gone. “You know I was joking right?”

 

Clarke purses her lips and nods weakly. She can't meet her eyes.

 

“Clarke?” Clarke looks up at her again and Lexa’s staring at her weirdly. She watches carefully as Lexa takes a small breath and pushes closer. Lexa licks her lips and lets out a small puff of air. 

 

“You don’t have to worry about the ladies.” Lexa tries again and she's _nervous_. Clarke makes a mental note of it because that's new. “I don’t care if they have maple syrup or green apples or even peach cobbler because,” Lexa hands come up to cup her cheeks.

 

“I have this…” She seems to be struggling for the right words. “Crush… on someone else.”

 

Clarke’s heart soars so dramatically that she thinks it might actually fly out of her chest. She leans into Lexa's tough and her eyes flutter closed as Lexa tilts her head and presses a closed-mouth kiss to her lips.

 

“She’s really stubborn, and also really clumsy.” Lexa mutters. Another kiss. “But she’s kind of a big deal.”

 

The words are no more than a whisper and when she kisses her again, Clarke’s fingers come up and bury themselves into Lexa’s hair, leaning in and pulling Lexa closer at the same time. Her stomach flutters and Clarke traces Lexa’s bottom lip carefully with her tongue. Her fingers play with the curly hair between them. When they break apart, Lexa is still tracing her cheek with her thumb and Clarke feels so warm and secure. Once again, the fated words are at the tip of her tongue, but then—

 

“Clarke! We need twice as many eggs as these! And speed it up, breakfast is in half an hour!”

 

They both jolt and move apart. Lexa laughs quietly and scratches the back of her neck. She has this bashful expression on her face and her lips are pursed in a way that Clarke fights the urge to kiss. They walk out of the storage a foot apart and find the room bustling with energy. Most of the ladies have gone back to work, either peeling or cutting or cracking eggs. They resume their position in front of the sink. With renewed purpose, Clarke begins to scrub the pot again. The topic is still Lexa and even after their conversation, Clarke has to stop herself from frowning. 

 

“Oh, she reminds me of my daughter when she was a child!” Jane says in a loud whisper behind them.  

 

“Mine too, but too bad she’s in the rehab center. Haven’t seen her in years!”

 

“Ah yes, I cannot believe they're not done with the treatments! Outrageous!”

 

Clarke does frown this time and when she seeks out those green eyes, she finds them already trained on her. Lexa is looking at her like she’s about to do something stupid, but before Clarke can warn her, she’s already clearing her throat. 

 

“What do you mean rehab? There’s a hospital here?” Lexa asks.

 

Jane turns to her, surprised and pleased to be the center of attention. “Well yes! It’s quite small, like a sick bay. My daughter fell ill from a mysterious virus a couple years ago, poor thing. Mr. Wallace promised that he could cure her in a few years if I agreed to work with him in return. I didn’t have the money, you see, for a doctor. And Mr. Wallace told us that he was the _only one_ that knew the cure. Been working for him ever since she fell ill.” She trails off to a whisper and Clarke gets the feeling that this isn’t information that she’s supposed to share. “She was never particularly healthy. Smart, yes, but strong? No, she wasn’t strong like you darling.” Jane bats her eyelashes at Lexa and Clarke’s resists the urge to whack her in the head with the pot. 

 

“My father also suffers from the same disease, but they will all get better.” Joanna chimes in.

 

“They’re taking too long.” Margo declares suspiciously and Clarke raises an eyebrow in interest. “It has already been two years and still they keep us here with empty promises. We are not even allowed to see them!”

 

“Two years.” Lexa mumbles absentmindedly as if the words struck a chord in her mind.

 

“Do you have someone who’s in there too?” Clarke asks and Margo rounds on her with surprising fury. 

 

“Yes.” She spits. The other ladies all look away uncomfortably. “My husband was taken from me. This place is nothing but death and sorrow. I long for them to be done with it.”

 

Clarke licks her lips, fighting the urge to shrink away from her wrath. “Where is it? The sick bay I mean. Maybe I could pass by and… see how they’re doing.”

 

Lexa shoots her a glare that screams _no!_ but Clarke ignores her. Scowling, Lexa walks to the other side of the room and picks up her glass of orange juice, inspecting it carefully before taking a sip. Margo leans back on the counter, scoffing and crossing her arms in front of her. “You’ll be the luckiest girl to find it. We’ve searched the entire civilian area for years and found nothing. They’re in room 7A.”

 

The pot in Clarke’s hands drops again and Lexa chokes on her orange juice, coughing and hacking. The ladies rush forwards all at once, but Lexa puts a hand up and straightens, pale-faced and wiping at her chin. _7A!? What the hell? Does this mean-_ Their eyes meet across the crowd of women and Clarke’s heart pounds away in her chest. She sees the moment that Lexa makes her decision because her eyes flash fiercely. 

 

“Actually,” Lexa says. “We have information on room 7A.”

 

The women all gasp and straighten. “Interested?”

 

They all nod. 

 

“Okay. But first, we need your help.”

 

 

//

 

 

The room is awfully quiet, silent to a point where one’s ears begin to hurt, but that’s just the way he likes it. He raises a glass to his lips a takes a sip of the black liquid, letting the bitterness roll around his tongue. _Tomorrow. Tomorrow Emerson would be back with the results and I will have the key to the safe._ He smiles at the thought, twirling a glossy pen idly between his fingers. There’s knocking at the door.

 

“Enter.”

 

Alecki walks in with a frown. 

 

“Alecki.” Cage states, waiting for the problem. When the man hesitates, Cage begins to grow impatient. “Whatever the issue is, we don’t have all day!” He snaps. “Speak now!”

 

Alecki simply looks at him. “I believe that you are severely underestimating your captives.”

 

The words knock around in Cage’s brain, grinding on his nerves until they make an awful combination of anger and disgust. “And what authority do you have to question my decisions?”

 

“Sir, with all due respect, at least monitor the workplaces. My men report regular contact with the workers and if the information leaks-”

 

“My workers are faithful to _me._ ” Cage growls. “Do not forget that they still believe their loved ones can be saved. They won’t make the wrong move.”

 

Alecki frowns. “Alexandria was spotted near 7A just yesterday.”

 

Cage launches out of his desk in surprised anger. He slams a fist on the desk, outraged. “Well did she get in or not!?”

 

“It is unclear.” 

 

Cage lets loose a roar. “You need to make sure your men are competent. Do not mistakenly think that your daughter is safe. Just because she isn’t in that room yet, doesn’t mean she won’t be soon. We have a common goal.”

 

The only sign of discomfort that Alecki offers is when he draws his lips into a line. “It won’t happen again… sir.”

 

“Good.” Cage leans back in his chair. “Don’t bother me with these trivial questions. The captives are two girls, and if _they_ can manage to break through our defenses… Well then maybe I am undeserving of this drug after all.”

 

Alecki nods and stands up. He is on his way out when another rapid knock sounds on the door, more loudly and urgent than the one before. Alecki’s left hand reaches for the door knob while the right drops to the gun strapped on his leg. There’s a moment of tense silence before the door opens in a rush and Alecki relaxes. The sight takes Cage by surprise and he is rarely, rarely surprised. 

 

“Emerson.” He says, secretly pleased but definitely not showing it. “You’re back early.”

 

“Sir.” Emerson nods and walks in stiffly with a manila envelop tucked under his arm. He glances pointedly at Alecki until the man leaves, closing the door with a gentle click behind him. Then Emerson continues, “Mariscal was an easy crack. He ran the data in twelve hours.”

 

“Are you sure that it’s accurate?”

 

“I made him run it again, or else I would’ve been back hours ago. It’s accurate alright. The most accurate one you’ll ever find.”

 

Emerson lays the envelope on the desk, but Cage makes no effort to pick it up. Instead, he smiles. The look is so foreign on him that Emerson pauses. “Sir?”

 

“Well done, Emerson. Tomorrow, the cure will be ours.”

 

 

//

 

 

Clarke should have known that it was a bad idea. The moment that they step out into the hall, guards surround them. Lexa shifts closer to her unconsciously and just as a guard opens his mouth to speak, he is interrupted by a loud, shrill voice.

 

“You filthy peasants! I told you _white_ sugar, not this disgusting, grainy, _brown_ sugar! It’s like you two don’t even listen when I’m talking! Must I do everything around here?” Margo shouts, pushing them past the guard easily. She is flanked by Ellen and Joanna who shake their heads convincingly with their noses turned to the air. The guard only frowns and hesitantly steps back against the wall, letting them pass. But the next guard isn’t as trusting. 

 

“Margo-”

 

“That’s Mrs. Vindley to you!” Margo shouts, breezing past. Joanna and Ellen let out disgusted scoffs.

 

The guard rushes to catch up and clears his throat, embarrassed, “Mrs. Vindley, could I ask where you are escorting them?”

 

“Where does it look like, Jeff? To the storage room of course! Someone needs to show them the difference between brown and white!”

 

She storms past, not sparing him a second glance and Clarke has to fight back a grin at how naturally Margo fit this role. They travel along the halls rapidly, Margo constantly urging them to move faster. Clarke glances up at her and takes in her calm and indifferent expression. The only thing giving away her apprehension is the constant flickering of her eyes. Lexa stays close, close enough for Clarke to feel her body heat as they move and Clarke notices the way that her shoulders are pulled taught with tension. She forces herself to relax as they pass by a group of guards conversing, but Margo is muttering under her breath with such convincing frustration that the guards don’t comment and let them pass. 

 

Clarke almost has a heart attack when Margo abruptly pulls them through a large, metal door and by the way Lexa hisses, Clarke can tell that she is equally as surprised. They’re nowhere near 2R and Clarke frowns when she realizes that they’re _actually_ in the storage room. 

 

“Wha-” She opens her mouth.

 

“Shh!” Margo hisses, turning her head back to Joanna and Ellen who nod solemnly and each take a side of the closed storage room door. Margo silently steers them deeper into the room, winding along the rows and rows of tall racks towering above them. They walk for some time and Clarke takes the opportunity to scan her surroundings. There were many closed boxes labeled here and there. She sees “fish,” “mushrooms,” “chili.” Then there are opened boxes revealing their contents and Clarke doesn’t have to strain her eyes to tell what’s inside. There are cans of salt, potatoes, pears, and Clarke darts out to grab a few cans of tuna and fruit, an odd combination, but they _were_ told to bring food.

 

Margo grumbles something suspiciously along the lines of ‘little thieves,” but hands her a cloth bag to carry the items. Clarke snatches items that she believes are somewhat consumable in the raw or canned state that they’re in and is so busy scanning the rows that she bumps right into Lexa, who has stopped in front of her. 

 

“Sorry.” She mutters before realizing that they had paused in front of a hole in the ground, about the size of a sewer lid. The carpet that covers the hole is lifted to the side. 

 

“Listen to me.” Margo spins around and whispers seriously. “Take the ladder down. You will be in a hall. Go straight three openings and turn right. Two openings and turn left. Code word is “Duck Egg.””

 

“You’re not coming with us?” Clarke asks, a little alarmed. She didn’t know a single thing about the passages below her and judging from the alarmed expression on Lexa’s face, she didn’t either.

 

“And who will take care of the guards? Joanna and Ellen won’t be pardoned as I will, so I must stay. Remember the way.” She presses something hard into Clarke’s hand and when she looks down, she sees that it is a flashlight. “Now go!”

 

She pushes them forwards and Clarke immediately grabs the ladder railings, dropping herself down and swinging the bag of goods over her shoulder. Lexa is a bit more hesitant. The ladder isn’t very tall, only about thirty feet, but Clarke doesn’t miss the way that Lexa trembles.

 

“It’s okay.” She whispers and Lexa tenses. This was evidently still a sore subject for her, but Clarke is too busy trying to keep them from falling and getting hurt as the opening above them closes to do much about it. She fumbles for the switch on the flashlight and after minimal struggling manages to click it on. A beam of light shoots onto the ladder, illuminating the white knuckles on her other hand still clutching tightly onto the bars in front of her. Quickly, she points it at the ground. _Okay, that’s not too far._

 

She tucks the narrower end in her mouth before she continues descending. Above her, Lexa’s breathing has sped up, but it’s a short descent. Clarke hits the ground before she expects it and Lexa follows shakily, scrambling off the ladder. Clarke wipes the spit off of the flashlight and shines it down the hall. It still comes out as pitch black and she can’t see the end. She swallows and turns towards Lexa. Her face is barely visible in the darkness, but Clarke still searches for those striking, green eyes. Their hands meet between them and Clarke clutches onto Lexa’s like a lifeline. 

 

“Okay, let’s go.” Lexa croaks, and they move down the hall slowly. 


	8. Escape Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late night updates......（*´▽｀*）

They barely make it five steps before there’s a rustle and a bump and Clarke almost jumps out of her skin.

 

“What was that?” 

 

“Ouch, Clarke!” Clarke loosens her grip sheepishly. 

 

“It was probably just a rat.” Lexa says, but Clarke feels her move closer. Her eyes dart around the halls nervously. There's something undeniably creepy about this place and it wasn't just the fact that it was pitch black. The air feels tense, heavy with moisture and a bit sour smelling. 

 

“Point the light that way.” Lexa whispers, giving her hand a light squeeze.

 

“Which way?” 

 

“Our left. I think I see the first entrance. Did you feel that?”

 

The air is cooler and a gust tickles their skin. Clarke snaps the flashlight to their left and sure enough, the beam of light illuminates a corner. The hallway there merges with another that runs perpendicular to it. They had found their first opening. 

 

“So that’s one.” Lexa mutters. 

 

“Um, I forgot how many there were supposed to be.” Clarke admits rather sheepishly. 

 

“Three, right. Two, left. Passcode: Duck Eggs.” Lexa recites. 

 

“Right.” Not for the first time Clarke is glad that Lexa’s by her side. The girl is obviously a genius. Clarke knew that before she figured out that she’s in love with her. They continue walking, Clarke moving the light back and forth to make sure that they don’t miss another opening. 

 

“Two.” Clarke mumbles. The light lands on another opening to their right this time.

 

“Three.” Lexa whispers after a bit. “Next one should be it.”

 

Sure enough, the next opening is on their right and Lexa turns so swiftly that Clarke has to stumble to catch up. Their palms are getting clammy, yet they don’t let go of each other. Down this hall, it’s much warmer and Clarke’s breathing picks up as the hallway narrows. Her hands are shaking so much that the beam of light on the walls vibrate and Lexa reaches over gently to take it from her. Clarke breathes out a sigh of relief and moves closer to Lexa. Though she has never been afraid of the dark, something about this place screams _creepy_ and sends chills down her spine. The light in Lexa’s hands is a lot steadier, routinely shifting every couple of feet from the left to the right. It’s been a long time yet they still haven’t stumbled upon another opening opening and Clarke hears Lexa huff in confusion. As if on cue, the first turn appears on their left, but it’s stained dark brown.

 

“What _is_ that?” Clarke moves closer to take a look, but Lexa yanks her back. 

 

“Don’t.” Clarke turns her head to look at her and in the dim light, Lexa’s eyes are dark and tense. There’s a strange look on her face that Clarke can’t quite make out in the dark, but she doesn’t question it. She lets her drag her forwards as they continue down the hall and it isn’t until the last turn was safely behind them that Clarke realizes that she trusts Lexa with her life. She would let her drag her down this hall and the next if it means staying together. 

 

“Two!” It comes after such a long time that Clarke’s voice is way too loud in excitement. The word bounces around the halls and the little hairs on the back of Clarke’s neck stand up. There’s a dull thud somewhere down the hall and they both freeze. Sluggishly, Clarke’s “two” makes its way back to them again, but it’s distorted and deep.

 

 _Tomb, tomb, tomb._ "Oh fuck." Clarke chokes out.

 

Lexa’s hand immediately tightens in hers and she can hear her breathing pick up. 

 

“Move!” They travel down the hall twice the speed they were going before and when they reach the next turn, they’re practically running. The air is damp, suffocating. Clarke pants get more and more labored as they go deeper. The temperature swings up dramatically and the heat is stifling. She doesn’t know if she’s able to keep this up for much longer.  

 

“Here.” Lexa hisses, and pushes them towards the opening. The light reveals that the ground slopes upwards at a steep angle, probably to compensate for the ladder that took them down and when they make it all the way up, they’re both panting. In front of them is a hole, very low to the ground, blocked by a wooden slab which Lexa knocks on twice, wincing as the loud noise echoes once again through the halls. Clarke can hear hushed whispering and a couple of rustles like the room’s occupants moving around. She taps her toe impatiently and Lexa squeezes her hand in warning. Suddenly, there’s a thud against the wood. 

 

“Say it.” The muffled voice demands. It’s gruff and unfamiliar to Clarke, but Lexa shifts beside her.

 

“Marty! It’s me, Lexa.”

 

The voice pauses. Then it returns with more force. “Say it.”

 

Lexa scrunches her brow in confusion, but Clarke gets it.

 

“Duck Eggs!” She blurts and then she flushes when there’s silence. _Oh, was he not asking for the password?_

 

“Who’s that?” The voice is distrustful, suspicious. Clarke can barely hear him underneath the rapid pounding of her heart.

 

“It’s just Clarke. You asked me to bring her?” Lexa says, pressing closer to the wood.

 

Silence follows her words and Clarke’s stomach churns uncomfortably. 

 

All of a sudden, it creaks open and a hand shoots out to grab Lexa and tug her through. Clarke’s hand is still firmly clutching Lexa’s and she yelps in surprise when she’s dragged into the room after her. 

 

The new space is blindingly bright compared to the dark tunnels behind her and for a moment she can’t see. Then, the room comes into focus and she hears the wood slamming back into place. She watches as a hefty man, Marty she guesses, pushes a cabinet over the gaping hole in the wall with a grunt. They’re standing in a closet and it’s much smaller than their own so that all three of them are just a hint too close to be comfortable. 

 

“Here.” Marty pushes past her towards the door on the other side of the room. They follow him out into what Clarke thinks is their living quarters because the room before her is very much like her own except probably only half the size and much more homely. The bed appears twice as big in the smaller space and it isn’t until she’s been staring for five full seconds does she realize that there’s another person in the room. 

 

A dark haired, pale skinned boy is sitting on the bed, clutching a wad of bandages tensely like he's getting ready to throw it at them. Clarke internally scoffs. _Like that would do any damage. He’d probably fall over before it’d even touch us._

 

And it’s true because he’s alarmingly skinny, bones protruding out in such a way that Clarke thinks can’t be healthy. She’s about to tell him to relax, but then she sees why he’s holding them in the first place. There’s a huge patch of bandages covering his left arm and up his chest, near his heart. They’re poorly placed and based on the medical training that Abby has put her under, Clarke knows that whatever is under is going to get infected unless they’re properly fixed. The boy’s face pales from the effort of maintaining his tense posture and the sickly gaze does not escape Clarke as he glares at them. 

 

“Gregory. It’s fine. They’re friends of mine.” Marty says, turning back to the boy. Marty’s voice seems to calm him because he relaxes a bit, but casts them suspicious glances nonetheless. Lexa’s hand slips from hers as she surveys the room and suddenly, Clarke feels a bit cold. 

 

“You wanted to talk to me?” Lexa says to Marty.

 

“Yes. Sit first.” He gestures to two couches besides the bed and they make their way over. Lexa plops down without hesitation and by the loose sway of her shoulders, Clarke can tell that she both trusts and is comfortable around this man. It makes her relax as well, but she looks over to the boy in concern. He looks like he’s about to faint, swaying back and forth a bit unsteadily on the bed. 

 

“Clarke?”

 

Lexa’s voice snaps her out of it and she glances back at Lexa to find her looking up at her. “Sit down?”

 

Clarke cautiously lowers herself next to her and they sit pressed together even though there is plenty of room on the couch. If Marty notices, he makes no comment. He has taken the other couch, sitting across from them a few feet away. A rickety wooden table separates them. 

 

“You saw the room, Lexa, and you’re not dense.” Marty folds his hands on his lap and regards Lexa in concern. After a beat, his voice becomes gentler and with hesitancy, he asks, “Are you alright?”

 

“I have a lot of questions.” Lexa movements are forced and Clarke immediately notices the way her shoulders are stiffer than before. But Marty doesn’t (it’s the type of subtle movement that only gets noticed by the ones who have spent years with her) and he clears his throat, motioning for her to continue.

 

Lexa hesitates then, gathering her thoughts. “7A is a… morgue.”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes. _How can this girl be so smooth and so awkward at the same time?_

 

Marty nods seriously. 

 

“I would have expected you to know that since you did insist on looking,” he says a bit sharply. His eyes dart to the clock hanging on the side of the room, another ornament that is not present in their own room.

 

“Right, right.” Lexa mutters, flushing. She chooses her next words carefully. “There were… bodies. And the slots were all occupied. Who were all those people?”

 

Marty sighs and rubs his face warily. Clarke watches as he nods like he is bracing himself for the revelation that they were about to hear. “They were businessmen, scientists, some just custodians at the wrong place in the wrong time. Many worked for Cage before this place turned into a prison,” he says bitterly. “And they’re all dead because of him.”

 

“How? How did they die?”

 

“There was an accident. I’m sure you’ve heard of Red Industries.” He glances at the girls and  Clarke and Lexa nod. “Well, the drug was never perfected and the last test they ran resulted in an—”

 

“Explosion.” Lexa finishes for him. “Cage mentioned that. The chemicals were leaked into the air right?”

 

“Right,” Marty nods. “Everyone in the chamber was infected and immediately placed in quarantine. The virus was… destructive at best, deadly at worst. Many died immediately after exposure to the fumes.”

 

“Okay…” Clarke says slowly. The pieces were coming together in her mind, but there is still some part that she is missing— something very important. “But I don’t understand how, after that, there are still people willing to work for him.”

 

Clarke frowns as she thinks back to Margo and Jane. They had said something about their families, but she’s can’t quite remember. 

 

To her astonishment, Marty laughs. It’s loud and bitter, but a laugh nonetheless. “Cage is a cruel man, he sent for the families of those that had died. Claimed that he would be able to save them.”

 

“So did they come?”

 

Cage chuckles darkly. “Oh yes, they came.”

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Clarke already knows that it is, based on his tone and rigid posture, but she’s still not ready for what comes next.

 

“They came and never left.”

 

 

//

 

 

“Any news?”

 

Monty peels his glasses off his face and wipes at the lenses with his shirt. “No.”

 

He settles his glasses back on and the world comes into focus, revealing to him the floppy-haired, wide-shouldered boy that was Finn Collins. And his headache comes with it. Sighing and leaning his head back against the chair, Monty suddenly wishes that he had never put on the stupid glasses in the first place. When the world was focused, his problems were much more defined. Why couldn’t he just hide in hazy ignorance for the rest of his life?

 

Or at least until Clarke comes back because most of his problems right now revolved around her. Including the boy that stood before him. 

 

“What do you want from me Finn?” He says harshly. “I’ve tried literally everything, but I’m not a detective or a professional so coming to me at-” He swings his watch arm in front of him casually, “two thirty-seven in the morning is not going to get us anywhere.”

 

It must be the fatigue and the frustration, he thinks. But deep down he knows its something more. There was a new kind of self hatred burning inside him for not watching out for her, not caring enough to swing back and walk with her, not being able to figure out _any stupid clues_ as to where she was right now. Clarke, he’s talking about Clarke of course. These days he tries not to say her name. 

 

He really hopes she alive right now and, unjustly, that her days aren’t easy either because _this,_ this waiting, wishing, hoping was tearing him apart. 

 

A sob from the other side of the room registers in his mind. 

 

“She’s gone.” Finn cries. “She’s gone, Monty. It’s too late, she’s gone.”

 

And… he’s crying. 

 

Monty sighs and his headache worsens. It wasn’t fair that the rest of the squad had dumped him on Finn watch, claiming that he was the only one sympathetic enough to do the job. He was not sympathetic, not anymore. Ever since Clarke left, they had been falling apart.

 

Raven and Bellamy fight on a daily basis. Octavia clings to Lincoln like a rag doll. He had walked in on Jasper smashing his sculpture project on the ground, blood running down his knuckles from where he had punched the stupid thing. 

 

And Monty was no healer. No. That was Clarke. He couldn’t do anything except watch as they all missed her in their own ways. 

 

And then there was Finn. He never liked the guy in the first place, a bully he was. But now, Finn seems to have given up. He’s taken to following Monty (the only person who’d listen) around like a puppy moaning and groaning about her “death.”  

 

There are some suspicions about him sleeping around with some other girls because he claimed it was “too much” and “too late,” but those rumors were never confirmed. He needed to fix his own heart, he claimed and that was okay with Monty as long as it didn’t involve at least five other girls. Which it probably did.

 

He can’t help but feel sorry for them. He knows that Finn’s going to be crawling back to Clarke once they find her.

 

“Finn, okay, okay. Look at me.” He crosses the room and pats his shoulder awkwardly and after a while, Finn meets his gaze with teary eyes.

 

“We’re going to find her. Don’t give up yet.”

 

“But she’s out there all alone. If I was there with her, I would protect her. I- I love her, Monty. I love her so much.” Finn blubbers.

 

Monty _is_ sympathetic, but there’s nothing he can do.“It’s okay. Clarke’s a strong girl. She’s clever and… and she has Lexa.”

 

“Lexa.” Finn snarls, jolting forwards to pace around the room as if he remembered something. Monty’s hand slips from his shoulder and Finn is spinning around. “She was probably the one who kidnapped her in the first place! That fucking-”

 

“Don’t!” Monty says sharply. It’s like a shard cut into his chest because he _knows_ what’s coming, he knows and he doesn’t want to hear it. A piece of him throbs and throbs because there is something he has to tell them all. _Not yet. Not until Clarke is here to hear it as well._ And he fights it back down. “That’s enough.”

 

Finn freezes, but his eyes still scan the room frantically and the wild look in his gaze is beginning to frighten Monty. 

 

So in a gentler tone, he says, “Why don’t we go to sleep, Finn. Tomorrow, er today, I have a history exam and I’m not sure I can function on any less sleep.” A beat. “You should rest too. Maybe today is the day that Clarke comes home. We just have to wait and see.”

 

Finn stands stock still and there’s a strange look on his face. For a moment, Monty thinks that he’s going to fight him and his stomach sinks, but slowly, Finn’s shoulders relax and he slumps forwards, hands coming to rub at his face. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re right Monty. I’m sorry.”

 

Monty nods wordlessly and watches as his figure moves in the darkness. As Finn leaves the room, he hears the small, “But I’m tired of waiting for her.”

 

The door closes, but Monty remains rooted in the center of the room, fatigue and history exam be damned. He can’t help but wonder if Finn was ever waiting for her at all.

 

 

//

 

 

“You’re telling me that all the workers in this building are _family members_ of those that died!?”

 

Lexa is restless, knee bobbing up and down in a way that makes Clarke want to reach over and stop her. 

 

“Only half. Half of the workers in this building are family members of those that died. Cage kept them here with an empty promise that he would be able to save them after the fumes were released, but he couldn’t. At least not every one. There was a powder that could slow the effects of the fume and Cage had enough to keep all the survivors alive for just a few months.”

 

“But I’m guessing he didn’t help them.” Clarke says, queasy feeling in her stomach intensifying.

 

“No,” Marty spits, wringing his hands out in obvious agitation. “No, he didn’t distribute it fairly. The bastard gave it all to his precious father in hopes of keeping him alive long enough to find a cure. And the rest of the workers are still rotting in those compartments because he can’t face what he’s done and give them the proper burial that they deserve.”

 

The weight of his words hits Clarke like a punch to the stomach and she feels the air leaving her lungs in a rush. _What the fuck. Margo, Jane, Ellen. They’re still waiting. Still clinging onto the hope that-_

 

She closes her eyes in attempt to calm the roiling in her stomach. The room is too hot and she’s nauseous. There must me something mentally wrong with the man that has them captive. Not only did he ruin the lives of those forty men that he could have saved, but he also ruined the lives of their families, of everyone in the building. It's beyond messed up and Clarke's thoroughly disgusted. 

 

She feels fingers running down her arm and intertwining with her own. When her eyes open, Lexa’s jaw is clenched and her eyes scream murder, but her touch is soft, gentle.

 

“He’s running out of time, isn’t he.” Lexa states. It’s not a question and Clarke isn’t at all surprised when Marty nods.

 

“Yes, though I wouldn’t know how much of it he has left. But he has a deadline to find the cure.”

 

“You mean get it. He’s already found it.” Lexa mutters bitterly. 

 

“Technically speaking, yes.”

 

“And thanks to us, he’s going to get it soon. We need to get out of here as soon as possible then.”

 

“Wait, wait,” Clarke interrupts. “That happened two years ago, right? Weren’t there bodies in the morgue? How are those still around?”

 

“They’re the one in the slots. Never reopened. God knows what they look like now. The fresh bodies that Lexa saw on the boards were not the bodies of the workers. They were bodies of boys like Greg,” Marty gestures towards the bed and Gregory scowls. “Cage keeps them locked up and… well, he-”

 

“You can say it.” 

 

Clarke and Lexa both startle as the boy speaks, and he slumps further onto the bed at their attention. 

 

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Greg continues, but his hand trembles as he speaks. “They drain our blood. The white-haired man needs new blood every day in order to take the drug. ‘Parently it taints his blood or s’thn.”

 

She sees Lexa’s eyes widen from the corner of her vision.

 

“How many of you are there?”

 

“Something like two-hundred, but that was last week. Probably one-seventy now. Sometimes, he kills us just for fun.”

 

Marty clears his throat. “No, not just for fun. Their blood type doesn’t match with Dante’s. That’s his father.” Marty adds at the look of confusion on their faces.

 

“Seems like for fun to me.” Greg mutters.

 

“Okay wait so how do they get these boys?” Lexa asks, perplexed. “You can’t exactly order them on Amazon.”

 

It’s Greg that replies. “We’re all orphans. Plucks us off the streets like we’re not important. Probably not too, cause no one came looking for us.”

 

Clarke feels her gut twist in disgust. “That’s messed up.” She hisses, and Greg flinches back before his face contorts and his arm comes around to clutch at the bandage on his chest. 

 

Clarke releases Lexa’s hand immediately and moves towards the bed on instinct. 

 

“Those aren’t put on right. You’re going to get an infection if they’re not fixed.” It comes out snobbier than she intended and she bites her lip. The boy’s eyes narrow and she can tell that he’s offended. _Way to go, Griff. Make friends, not enemies._

 

“Here,” she says in a softer tone. Her hand comes out tentatively to grab the boy’s wrist and he flushes. 

 

Clarke makes quick work of the bandages, discarding the old ones, cleaning the cut over his heart with antiseptic, and patching him up all in the matter of minutes. She can hear Lexa and Marty discussing ways to break out.

 

“The tunnels don’t extend that far.”

“Okay what about a map of the halls, can you get us that?”

 

Clarke glances up to meet the boy’s gaze and catches him staring. He quickly averts his eyes with a blush and Clarke fights back a smile. He’s not bad looking, disregarding his pale and sickly complexion. But she can’t help but compare his grey eyes to green ones, the hard line of his mouth to the gentle plumpness of fuller ones, his square jaw to a stronger, more elegant one. Yeah, he’s not bad looking, but then again, Clarke’s not really _looking._  

 

The boy’s gaze is back on her again and his eyes are wide with wonder as her nimble fingers work at his injuries. She doesn’t comment. Something about the way he’s looking at her reminds her awfully a lot of how she looks at Lexa. Maybe they do have a connection after all but-

 

“Clarke?”

She glances back curiously. But Lexa’s gaze isn’t even on her. Her eyes are narrowed, shoulders stiff, and she’s looking directly past her at Gregory, staring at him with a fiery intensity that completely catches Clarke off guard. 

 

“Why don’t you join us?” Lexa asks carefully.

 

“In a minute, let me just check his wrists first.” 

 

There’s a flicker of… something in Lexa’s eyes at her rejection and it almost makes her want to take it back. But Clarke was serious about not wanting to get this wound infected. Lexa doesn’t look back despite the fact that Marty was in the middle of an explanation. Finally, her green eyes turn to hers and Clarke tries to send her the most sincere look she can, and she’s not sure if she’s successful, but Lexa turns her attention back to Marty. 

 

She finishes the wrist bandages even faster, knowing they were waiting on her, and when she looks up the second time, the boy is staring resolutely ahead. Internally, she rolls her eyes. _Lexa’s not_ that _scary._

 

She frowns as she heads back. It was a little bit unjust how Lexa had scared the boy, she thinks grumpily. It’s not like she was about to jump his bones or whatever Lexa thought. Though Lexa’s hand rests on her leg, purposely tilted upwards, she finds herself hesitating to place hers on top. But eventually, her own desire to be closer to the brunette wins over and her hand slides back into Lexa’s when she rejoins her on the couch. Marty’s eyes flicker downwards, but again, he doesn’t comment. Lexa immediately relaxes into her touch and begins catching her up on what she missed.

 

“So we might have a plan.”

 

Clarke raises an eyebrow. Lexa knows how she feels about her plans. 

 

“Okay, so it’s unconventional, yes, and dangerous, but it’s the best one so far.” Clarke is powerless against those pleading, green eyes so she simply nods for her to continue.

 

“Okay.” Lexa claps her hands together with a half smile, obviously delighted to have her support. “So this is what we’re going to do…”

 

 

//

 

 

“Clarke, stop pacing.”

 

“What?” She says distractedly, fingers fidgeting with the bottom of her oversized sleep t-shirt. 

 

“It’s well past eleven and you’ve been pacing the room for the past hour. Come get some sleep.”

 

Clarke’s not even going to lie. If she turned around right now, she knows that the bed would look sinfully comfortable, all warm covers and soft silk, and coupled with Lexa, who was tucked away respectfully on her side of the bed, Clarke knows she would be very tempted. But the uneasy twist in her stomach keeps her feet moving and she forces herself not to turn. She remembers what Abby used to tell her whenever she felt uncomfortable at speech and debate tournaments. _Walk it off._

 

“Abby says exercise makes people feel better.” Clarke mutters.

 

“Okay, but I’m pretty sure that she didn’t mean do it at… eleven forty-four at night.” 

 

“I think the concept applies anytime. It has something to do with how the heart pumps more oxygen-saturated blood to your brain, or something.”

 

“So you’re doing this for your brain.”

 

“No, I’m doing this for my heart, feels like it’s about to stop any minute. And actually I’d love it if I could just turn my brain off entirely. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with it spinning five thousand miles per hour.” Clarke grunts. 

 

“Oh.” Then after a beat. “You know there are other ways to get your heart pumping.” Lexa smirks, eyeing her coyly. Normally, she would bite back a smile and shoot back an “oh really, now?” But somehow, Lexa having the ability to _joke around_ in their current situation only made Clarke angrier. 

 

“Yeah, well, I’d prefer this one right now.” She snaps, and almost instantly regrets it because it feels so much like the days they were fighting all the time. So much like the times that Clarke made herself swear to never repeat. 

 

Sure enough, she spots the tell-tale stiffening in Lexa’s shoulders and the flicker in her eyes that tells Clarke she’s hurt. Clarke closed her eyes and draws in a deep breath. _Fuck._ It feels horrible hurting Lexa. Internally, she is preparing for the worst, for Lexa to lash back out at her and for their delicate… relationship… to crumble. But it never comes. 

 

All of a sudden, Lexa’s shoulders slump and she relaxes. “You’re worried.” She sighs. 

 

And it all comes tumbling out before she can stop it. 

 

“Hell yes I am, Lexa.” Clarke whispers. “What if it doesn’t work? You’re going to get yourself killed going down that hall and if the latch isn’t where it’s supposed to be, our whole plan is a failure.”

 

The corners of Lexa’s pretty mouth turn downwards. “It will be fine.”

 

There it is again. Stoic, uncaring Lexa. She hates it.

 

“It won’t ‘ _be fine’_! We need a backup plan. What if Marty isn’t waiting for you?” There aren’t enough words to express her anxiety right now and she takes an unconscious half-step towards Lexa before she catches herself and turns back around.

 

“He will be.” Lexa looks away from her and stares at the wall on the opposite side of the room.

 

“Lexa! I’m serious.” Clarke swivels back around to face her and her hair almost catches on fire. _The damn candles!_

 

In the warm orangey-yellow glow, Lexa’s sharp lines look softer. Her hair’s down and she’s wearing nothing but a black tank and sweatpants. Her soft breathing contributes to the gentle rise and fall of her chest and… she’s so beautiful.

 

“We’ll have Margo be a distraction again. That’s how we’ll do it.” Clarke mutters, more to herself than to Lexa.

 

“Clarke.” Lexa sighs from her reclined position on the bed. “Worrying yourself will do nothing for how tomorrow turns out. Plans change in battle. They change everywhere. Come to bed.”

 

“No.” Clarke growls, and she’s pacing the room again, ignoring how Lexa groans and covers her face with her hands. 

 

“What if Greg and the boys aren’t ready? What if Margo and the ladies don’t believe us? What if the vents are too small for you to fit in? There are literally so many ways this could go wrong.” Clarke pauses mid-step. She’s not meant for the action movie plot line, hell, she’s not even athletic. This is driving her crazy.

 

“But most importantly, what if you don’t make it down that hall Lexa?” She whispers. “Twenty guards down one hallway. Like, what if you- if- I-”

 

She can’t stand it. Can’t stand knowing that Lexa might die tomorrow and she won’t be able to do anything about it. Technically, she knows that she’ll play her own part, but it was nothing compared to what Lexa needs to do. And she feels that familiar irrational anger that emerges every time Lexa does something to piss her off and this time it’s giving her the easy task to “protect” her. 

 

She thinks she’s surely about to burst into a thousand ribbons of worry when strong arms wrap around her waist and she’s being turned around. Soft lips press against her face. Her forehead, her cheeks, the slope of her nose, under her chin. Everywhere.

 

“Relax.” Lexa murmurs quietly against her skin. “I’m tougher than I look, _babe_.” 

 

Clarke knows that Lexa’s trying to lighten up the mood, make her feel better, but honestly she’s not sure that there is much she can do. Except, of course, guarantee to her that she’ll be safe tomorrow. But if she does, Clarke will know that’s a lie. 

 

And _fuck._ It’s _not fair._ She’s finally figured it out, their friendship, her feelings for Lexa, and she feels that at any moment, it’s about to be ripped away. _Not now. Not when I’ve finally seen her the way she deserves to be seen._

 

She’s not sure when the tears start falling, but suddenly her cheeks are wet and Lexa is kissing her like she’s the last breath of fresh air, like its the last time, and it’s too much. 

 

“Lexa.” She gasps, fingers braceleting Lexa’s wrists and thumbing the back of her hands where they were cupping Clarke’s face. In the low light, knowing that tomorrow, anything, everything could go wrong, she can’t help but feel panicked, pressured to admit something that she doesn’t feel ready to admit. _I love you. I love you. I love you._ “Lexa, I want-”

 

She chokes and stops, choosing to kiss her instead. Her tongue swipes over Lexa’s bottom lip and she swallows her gasp, but Lexa pulls away and looks at her hard. Her pupils are entirely blown. “What do you want Clarke?”

 

Clarke wordlessly stares at her and pulls her back in, lips moving gently together. She buries her fingers in Lexa’s hair and tugs, pulling them closer together so that she can feel every bump and every curve of Lexa’s body against hers.  

 

“Lexa.” She gasps. “I want you.”

 

She watches as Lexa’s eyes darken beautifully and the way her throat bobs when she’s nervous. Tomorrow they go to war. But tonight they are together.

 

 

//

 

 

 _“What_ is _that?”_

 

_Lexa dodges Anya’s hand as she reaches out to grab at something hanging around Lexa’s neck._

 

_“Ooooh, is it from someone special?” Anya teases. “Pretty girl in fourth period?”_

 

_Lexa groans. Why did she have to be advanced in math? No, wrong question. Why did Anya have to be assigned to the same math class as her when there were at least a dozen other ones she could have been placed in. It’s her fault, not Lexa’s._

 

_“No.”_

 

_“Uh huh, you sure about that? I saw the way you two were looking at each other the other day.”_

 

_“What?” Lexa scoffs. “There’s nothing going on between Costia and I.”_

 

_“Okay fine then. If there’s nothing going on, you’ll let me see your new necklace right?” Anya smirks from beside her._

 

_Lexa rolls her eyes. Anya was nothing if not persistent, Lexa will give her that. It’s just that sometimes her persistence can be more than a little annoying._

 

_“It’s not a big deal, just some bird.”_

 

_She tries to duck out of her way again, but this time Anya is too fast. She grabs the swinging pendant and tugs._

 

_“Hey, hey! Careful!” Lexa moves her neck and body towards Anya to prevent the necklace from breaking and Anya snickers._

 

 _“So it_ does _meant something. Don’t worry, I wasn’t going to break it if you were wondering. Wouldn’t do that to you, Woods. Especially if it’s from a pretty girl.” Anya winks._

 

_Then she squints closely at the bird, holding it up and ignoring the way Lexa is being tugged around like a dog on a leash._

 

_“Hey Lex, it’s not just any bird. It’s a dove.”  
_

_Lexa blinks. “Okay.” She draws out. “Um, is that supposed to mean something to me.”_

 

_Anya looks at her like she’s been deeply offended and rolls her eyes. “Can’t believe you don’t pay attention to Mr. Santiago’s fun facts in APES. Doves are supposed to represent peace, friendship, family. Uh, sorry bud. Looks like you just got friend-zoned.” Anya cackles at her own joke and pulls away, dropping the necklace in the process._

 

_It falls back with a muted thud against Lexa’s chest. Her head snaps back from where it had been angled painfully towards Anya. The older girl is still laughing lightly before she turns to Lexa and realizes that she’s not even smiling. “Hey, it was a joke. Are you alright today?”_

 

 _But Lexa barely hears her over the pounding of her own heart._ Friendship? Peace? 

 

_“Yo Griff!”_

 

_The voice is a welcome distraction and both Anya’s and her head snap over to its source. Bellamy Blake stands in the middle of the soccer field waving his arms back and forth._

 

_“Clarke! Come on, be a good sport and pass the ball!”_

 

_Lexa’s head swivels to the other side of the field so fast that she nearly gives herself whiplash. Sure enough, standing tan and fit, blonde hair glowing, one foot on the soccer ball was none other than Clarke Griffin. Lexa’s throat dries up in record time as she eyes Clarke’s sinfully short shorts and the way her teeth flash pearly white in the sunlight._

 

_“Tell me where Octavia is and I will!” Clarke shouts back._

 

_Being close enough, Lexa hears Bellamy grumble something along the lines of “Raven Reyes” before beginning a slow jog over to Clarke._

 

_“No!” Clarke squeals as he gets closer, bending down to wrap the ball protectively in her arms. “Bellamy!”_

 

_“They’re so immature.”_

 

_Lexa jolts at the interruption, having completely forgotten that the girl was walking beside her. “Uh huh.” She says lamely, just a second too late._

 

_Anya’s eyes narrow. “What’s wrong with you today?”_

 

_Lexa eyes her guiltily and shrugs. “Got a lot of work for chem.”_

 

_It’s a lame excuse and she’s pretty sure that Anya sees right through it, but luckily, she doesn’t comment. At least, not until they walk past the other two standing on the field and Clarke almost drops the ball at the sight of her._

 

_Lexa watches as her eyes immediately dart towards the necklace bouncing against her chest and then… blue pools snap up to meet hers and a beautiful grin spreads across her face._

 

_Lexa flushes and swallows, quickly averting her eyes, but not quick enough for Anya. She gives her till they round the corner before-_

 

_“Okay, what the fuck was that?”_

 

_Lexa decides to play dumb. “Hm? What was what?”_

 

 _“Oh please, first you come to school with a new necklace that’s apparently “nothing” which means it’s always_ something _, and then you and blondie over there are shooting heart eyes at each other?”_

 

_Lexa glares at her. “We were not looking at each other with ‘heart eyes.’” She grumbles._

 

_Anya scoffs.“Uh huh. Whatever you say, Lex.”_

 

 

_*_

 

 

_Lexa wears the necklace everyday for a full week and even though she has to endure Anya’s constant teasing, it was alway worth it. Because Clarke stopped frowning at her in the halls and started shooting her those brilliant, all-teeth smiles that did little to help Lexa’s racing heart._

 

_Somewhere near the end of the week, she finds an answering one resting on her own lips._

 

 

_*_

 

 

_Two days after, a boy pins her down behind the tall post next to the baseball field._

 

_“No,” she gasps through gritted teeth. “I’ll give you homework then. A week. Homework for a week.”_

 

_He laughs and twists her arm further. “No. I want something for my sister. It’s her birthday soon. Got anything for me in that little bag of yours?”_

 

 _Lexa curls her lips in disgust, glaring at him from over her shoulder. “No, I don’t carry all my money on me like you do.” She spits, eyeing the gold watch digging painfully into her shoulder blade. She’s freaking on the_ ground _with a face full of dark asphalt. There’s no way she can win this fight, but she can sure as hell spit all the insults in the world at him._

 

_The boy, Atom, throws his head back in a cruel laugh._

 

_“Yeah, what a waste of my time. Looks like you’ve got nothing after all, Woods.”_

 

_Lexa sighs in relief when the hand on her shoulder loosens, but then, the cloud above them shifts and a beam of light shines on a delicate object resting on the ground besides them. Lexa prays to God that he didn’t notice, but he does, and the the hand clenches tight, tighter than before and she bites her lip to keep silent._

 

_“Actually… you know what’ll do?” He grunts._

 

_Lexa’s stomach twists with dread._

 

_“That pretty necklace of yours.” He sneers and a strong hand comes around her body. Lexa twists out of the way desperately._

 

_“No, no-” Lexa Woods never begs, despite being a regular victim of “The Crew” and she can tell that it takes Atom by surprise. He blinks down at her for a second, before the hand is back._

 

_“No,” she gasps, “Wait, Atom. Wait-”_

 

_It’s futile, of course, as are all of her efforts to defend herself from Clarke’s squad._

 

_It’s amazingly quick how Atom tugs the necklace from her neck. The silver thread snaps (surely along with a string in her heart, Lexa thinks)._

 

 _“No, stupid!” Lexa yells finally and to her horror, she feels tears building up behind her eyes. “Now_ no one _can where it!”  
_

_Atom releases her and stands up, but Lexa makes no move. He stares at her dumbly. “Oh, yeah.” He laughs almost embarrassedly, rubbing the back of his neck._

 

 _Lexa closes her eyes and lets her head fall back to the ground._ Fuck these dumbasses. One day when I’m President I’ll order their execution, the little fuckers.

 

_Atom recovers in a heartbeat and his face smooths out pleasantly.“Yeah you’re right.” He shrugs. “Guess I didn’t want it after all.”_

 

_Lexa watches as the dove falls as if in slow motion and offhandedly, she can’t help but think that it should represent something in her life, a recurring theme. The foot that comes smashing down on it isn’t as slow and neither is the crackle that follows._

 

_“Wasn’t worth keeping.” Atom grunts, sauntering away._

 

_But Lexa’s gaze is still fixed on the bird, scratched and chipped on the floor._

 

_“Yeah. Wasn’t worth it.”_

 

 

*

 

 

_Somewhere in the second week, Clarke stops smiling at her._

 

 

_//_

 

 

The bullet misses her head by a millimeter, smashing into the wall behind her with a deafening crack. _Fuck!_ Her finger jabs the button frantically. _Where the hell is Lexa?_

 

The guards come into view and she knows she’s screwed. Time to give up. Just as her hands started rising above her head, the light turns green. A metal door slams to the ground with astonishing speed, separating Clarke and her captors though they still try to shoot at her. The bullets barely make a dent. 

 

Clarke is already spinning around, sprinting down the newly revealed hall. _Okay, past the residential area already, that’s good. Two more sections…_

 

A body slams into her as she passes an opening in the hall, knocking her to the ground. Her heart constricts in fear before a familiar voice hushes her. “Quiet! In there!”

 

She is dragged into a nearby room and the door clicks shut, engulfing them in darkness.

 

“Marty,” she whispers, spinning around. “What are you doing here? Where’s Lexa?”

 

He doesn’t reply and in the limited light that the sliver in the door provides, Clarke sees the grim line of his mouth and her heart twists.

 

“Marty!” She hisses frantically, heart already pounding away at his silence. “Answer me!”

 

“Hush Clarke.” He growls, purposefully avoiding her gaze. “We don’t have much time. Lexa is fine, but she needs our help. Greg’s boys are spread in the civilian zone and they have most of the guards drawn there, but it’s not enough.”

 

Clarke breathes out a sigh of relief. “So she got to the control panel then.”

 

“Yes.” Marty states. “And she’s stuck there. There were more guards coming so I panicked and barricaded the entrance… which was also the only exit.”

 

“And you? How did you get out?”

 

“Leap of faith. Saw a spare guard suit and never went in. Besides, they're familiar with me. It’s not uncommon for workers to shift duties.”

 

Clarke bites her lip as the relief floods through her. _She’s safe._ But it’s abruptly cut short. “Then how do we get her out?”

 

And Marty’s silent again. His gaze shifts to the shelves behind her and stays there.

 

“What? I don’t-” The realization, when it comes, slams into Clarke so hard that she almost stumbles.

 

“No. Absolutely not.” She hisses, shaking her head. “It’s not an option. I’m not leaving without her.” 

 

“Clarke. We don’t have time for this,” he grits out. “This is the only chance we have to stop Cage. The best chance we’ve had in years. I’m sure as hell not going to let you waste it.”

 

“No!” Clarke hisses, getting more and more agitated by the minute. “I won’t leave her! I won’t-”

 

Marty moves all in a rush, covering her mouth with one hand, other falling to her waist and pressing them against a cabinet. Boots clack down the hall at a steady pace and Clarke watches the gap as the shadows flicker on the floor. Her heart pounds from worry for Lexa and the fear of getting caught and Marty must sense her worry because his hand drags circles on her arm comfortingly. 

 

When the footsteps subside, Marty lets go and Clarke immediately spins to face him. There’s no argument. No question.

 

“I’m not leaving this damn building without her.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6210235/chapters/14227552
> 
> Aaand, I've finally decided on the amount of ch. for this fic.


	9. Escape Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the patient readers-- thanks for not giving up on me.

So they climb their way through the air vents, squinting their eyes and trying hard not to cough. Marty grumbles quietly about how it’s good that he never had any children to which Clarke pointedly ignores because, hey, it’s just a bit offensive. 

 

“Why the fuck are these so spacious.” Clarke whispers, eyeing the walls that weren’t even close to crowding her body.

 

Marty shrugs, and the “spacious” vents look just a little tight around him. “Everything’s underground. Bad ventilation.” 

 

There were no air vents in the control room. Marty’s hand drawn map courtesy of Jane whose husband worked in the security department showed that the closest vent was in the room directly to the left of the control room. That was also the one Lexa and Marty had used to get to the room in the first place.

 

They need to break into the room next to the control room, and as Marty put it “punch a hole in the wall,” and rescue Lexa before the guards could break down the flimsy blockade. Clarke clenches her jaw. Not easy, but definitely not impossible. 

 

“Left.” Marty grunts and is startles Clarke out of her thinking. She receives a light tap on her shoulder just two feet after the turn and looking back, she sees Marty nodding at her. Her eyes dart back down to the opening underneath her. The bars blocked some of her vision, but she can make out the dark room below. They’ve been crawling for at least ten minutes now and her elbows are screaming in pain. Sweat drips down from her temples, but Marty’s shirt is already soaked so she can’t complain. Finally reaching their destination is a relief. 

 

“Flashlight.” Clarke moves out of the way and slaps the light into Marty’s waiting hand. He makes quick work of the screws on the panel. (“What did you say you did before this again?”)

 

He pokes his head down and checks left and right before gripping the sides of the square opening and lowering himself out, landing on the ground louder than he would have liked because of his leg and dusting off his hands. (“Never said, sweetheart.”) 

 

Clarke fights the urge to roll her eyes at his smirk, but follows him down. She scans their surroundings. A few unused chairs lean against the walls and are stacked onto tables that are torn and dirty. The room emits a heavy, musky odor that tells both of them that it hasn’t been used in quite a while. A single metal door is on the wall directly opposite of them, leading undoubtedly to the hall that connects the room that they’re in with Lexa’s. 

 

Clarke starts towards it before a hand drags her back. 

 

“Not through there.” Marty whispers. “We’ll die the moment we exit.” 

 

He picks his way over to the wall on their left, moving the chairs away as quietly as he can before pressing his ear to the wall. “She’s in there.” He jabs his finger against the white surface. 

 

“How are we supposed to break through this without making noise?” Clarke hisses and Marty actually frowns. _Oh good heavens._

 

“I didn’t think we’d get this far to be honest.”

 

Before Clarke can bury her face into her hands, he adds, “But I think there’s a way under.”

 

 _Under?_ Clarke blinks. They’re standing on wood instead of tile, a detail that she completely disregarded in favor of squinting through the dark for an exit. But now that he mentions it, breaking through wood _would_ be a lot easier that punching through cement. 

 

“These rooms were never finished. The wood was meant to be replaced with cement, but the original owner went bankrupt and Cage never had it done. If I’m right, there should be…”

 

He presses down on the wooden planks, but they’re firm and uniform. “Help me find a weak link. There’s got to be one if this was temporary.” 

 

His command snaps Clarke out of her daze and she crosses the room to crouch down beside Marty against the wall. Together they poke, prod, and pry at the ground, hoping for any sort of indication that there is a piece weaker than the rest. A clamor down the hall has them both freezing, but it’s just the building showing its old age. The sound does motivate them to move faster. 

 

“Got it.” Clarke whispers, pushing harder against a block that strains under the weight of her palm. Marty wastes no time pulling it straight out of the ground. 

 

“Excellent. The pieces around it should be easy now.” 

 

Their movements are fast and rough, spurred on by the thought that at any moment, Lexa could be caught and killed. Marty’s definition of easy did not exactly apply to Clarke because while he had no problem tearing piece by wooden piece out from the ground, Clarke had to grit her teeth and tug with all of her might for one of them to loosen. As soon as the hole is big enough for them to fit through, Marty has them stop. He glances down into the darkness nervously. “You still have your rope?”

 

Clarke’s heart sinks. “No, they took it.”

 

“Dammit.” Marty’s eyes dart around the room, lips pursed in frustration. Nothing was going right for them today, the only day that they needed luck. Though equally as frustrated and perhaps a tad bit more frazzled than Marty, Clarke thinks back to last night. _Plans change._ She pulls at the side of her shirt frantically and lets out a strangled noise. 

 

Marty looks at her like she’s crazy. “What?”

 

“The only things Lexa and I had a limited supply of was clothing so we took what we could.” Clarke mutters, hands already flying across her torso. “Shirts, Marty!” One tucked neatly along the waistband of her pants. One scrunched in each pocket. And two she was wearing herself…

 

“I need yours too.” She tells Marty. “We can rip them up and tie them together.”

 

“Marty!” She repeats when all she gets back is radio silence, but when she looks up, the man is grinning up at her.

 

“She told me you were quite the planner.”

 

Clarke fights down a blush at the praise. Now was not the time. Her fingers are already clawing at the fabric, trying to get the material to stretch and break. Marty starts working beside her immediately, shrugging out of his black t-shirt, leaving him in a white army tank. Strands of different color twisted together and Clarke makes every knot as tight as she can despite the extra fabric she is using up. 

 

They’re halfway through when the banging starts and Marty’s head whips up in synch with hers. “Shit!”

 

They double their pace. Marty growls in frustration as he rips a strand too short and flings it to the side violently. _Wasting resources._ Two more shirts to go. Four more bangs and the door bends inwards. Clarke’s hands are sweating and it’s getting harder and harder to tie each knot. _We’re not going to make it. We’re not going to make it._ Her stomach flips and turns at the realization, but she only pushes herself to go faster. _We can. We have to._

 

Muffled yelling is heard outside the door. A huge bang follows and the top part of the metal rips off. They’ve been found.

 

“I see them! They’re over here, get me one of those pipes!”

 

Clarke grits her teeth and pulls harder, but the fabric just won’t tear. Her vision begins to blur as the noise outside the door gets louder and louder. More and more voices were running down the hall. This was it. Suddenly, warm hands cover hers and she looks up to find Marty staring solemnly back at her. 

 

“We have to go.”

 

“No. I can’t-”

 

He cuts her off before she can panic. “Not away, Clarke. We need to use what we have and hope it’s long enough.” They stare down and the file of fabric. 

 

“Send me down.”

 

Marty springs up from the ground and runs towards tables. Without the need to remain silent, he yanks the nearest one away from the rest and together, they haul it towards the hole. 

 

“No time for another.” Marty mutters as his fingers fly towards the leg nearest the hole. A few seconds and the fabric is tied onto it. “I need you to sit on top of it.”

 

Clarke jumps on without question just as the door flies open.

 

“GO! GO!” 

 

The guards pour in, but Marty hesitates, eyes trained behind her.

 

“MARTY GO!” Clarke screams. “What are you-”

 

And the world goes black.

 

 

//

 

 

“What do you mean NO!?” Jake explodes, lunging forwards.

 

Several hands reach for him all at once, but the first and only ones to land are Christian’s.

 

“The boy found crucial information to case and it gives us the best lead we’ve had in weeks! I say we go immediately!” Jake continues, even as he is hauled back by his friend. “Monty, tell them again.”

 

“No,” the officer interrupts, sighing and leaning on the desk. “Sir, we’ve heard it enough times. Even if what the boy shows us is true, the last trace of Clarke’s phone is at a gas station near Kinlo Mountains and we simply do not have the resources to send out. The search party, as you know, is focused due south-”

 

“Get them back.” Christian says. “Do a recall and redirect them to Kinlo. If the girls were at the gas station, someone might have seen them and who they were with.”

 

A female officer next to the door speaks up this time. “Standard procedure would require at least three days time to get our team there. This won’t be a fast process.”

 

“It’s only a three _hour_ drive up there!”

 

“We don’t know if the boy’s information is even correct. Officers are reviewing his work as we speak, I say we wait for a clear answer.”

 

“It’s accurate, sir.” Monty picks his head up for the first time in the meeting. “I’ve done it before when Clarke went out sometimes and lost her phone. When I tried locating her phone weeks ago, the signal was blocked probably because it was turned off, but now that I can track it means that someone must have found it and switched it on.”

 

“See, we need to go now.”

 

“Sir-”

 

“If Jake and I start up now, how fast can you get your team there?”

 

“Sir, that’s not- I can’t-”

 

“How fast?”

 

“Surely, it would have to be-”

 

“By the end of the day?”

 

“Let him speak, Jake.”

 

“It’s got to be by then.”

 

“Night searches are far more difficult due to communication errors.”

 

“So you’re saying that difficulty is-”

 

“I’d say we start out the next day.”

 

“The next-”

 

“Jake. How early in the morning?”

 

“Five?”

 

“Six.”

 

“Six!?”

 

“Five-thirty.”

 

“We’ll start the earliest possible, sir.”

 

“Which is _when_?”

 

“Six.”

 

“ _Six_.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

"Six."

 

“Fine, but we’re starting now.”

 

 

//

 

 

Her vision comes back in patches, and the blaring alarms do nothing to help the state of her pounding head. She feels sick, but that also might be because of the way her body is being jostle like a sack a potatoes, where was she?

 

The world is hazy, flashing red lights, white walls that are too bright, footsteps, wheezing, _blood._

 

The last observation is what brings her back.

 

She being carried, and the person who has her slung over their shoulder is obviously struggling under her added weight. A trail of blood trickles to the ground which each movement, leaving an obvious indicator of where they were located. The body and gait of the person is familiar, but each jolt worsens her headache and her heart pumps away.

 

“Marty?” She groans quietly.

 

The person grunts, but does not comment. He’s panting, she realizes. He’s running, that’s why he can’t reply. But why? Why is he running? How were they not caught? Clarke’s head spins and she tilts her head to the side, searching for something. She groans.

 

As if on cue, a face enters her field of vision. Green eyes. She could recognize those eyes anywhere. 

 

“Lexa.” She gasps, head snapping up despite the pain and immediately reaching out to her, but Lexa pulls back. 

 

“Can you walk?” She’s panting too. And running. But so elegantly. She’s even pretty when she runs.

 

“Clarke.” The ragged bark snaps her out of it. “Please, can you walk?”

 

“I…”

 

Her head hurts almost as much as it did when she cracked it open on accident during talent show auditions. Her body is tired, sluggish, and really what she wants to do is take a nap. Any type of physical exertion seems like a death sentence, but that was just being selfish. Especially because her vision is clearing and she is awake enough to feel Marty’s muscles straining against her body. So she nods. When Lexa sighs in relief, she knows that it was a right decision. 

 

“Put her down.”

 

Marty immediately drops her and she stumbles. But Lexa is already there, a steady hand on her elbow and another on her hip. She looks up at Marty to find his face bruised and cut, one eye swollen shut and blood pouring from his bad leg. Her stomach heaves and she takes a step forwards. 

 

“No.” Marty holds out a hand to stop her, chest shaking with the effort to drag in more oxygen. “I already checked it. It’s shallow, just a bloody mess.”

 

Clarke opens her mouth to protest, but shouting down the hall bring their attention back to the escape.

 

“We need to go.” Lexa says.

 

Around the bend, half a dozen guards are on their tail, but they’re already halfway to the next bend. 

 

“They have guns!”

 

“They won’t shoot.” Lexa says with confidence. “Cage seems to have changed his mind.”

 

Her face is grim and harsh, reminding Clarke of the moments she missed when she blacked out. What happened? The back of her head is prickly and when she reaches a hand up to swipe at her hair, it comes back caked in semi-dried blood. 

 

“Why?” She grumbles. What had she missed?

 

“Don’t know, Clarke! Just keep running!” Lexa growls, picking up their pace. 

 

Clarke’s body is not ready for the extra effort and she stumbles. Lexa automatically shifts so that she’s running behind her. “In front of me. Not too much farther.”

 

She keeps her eyes trained on Marty who is rounding the bend. The can see the exit now, a tiny dot at the end of the hall. They can make it this time. Clarke is just about to sigh in relief when suddenly, more guards pour out fifty feet in front of them and Marty makes a sharp right down another corridor. “Shit!” He yells in frustration.

 

The new set of guards right behind them. One misstep, stumble, anything, would cost them severely. Clarke’s head is throbbing, lungs are burning, legs are aching, but they can’t stop and she knows that. Marty navigates the halls like a professional, twisting and through the corridors and putting a decent amount of distance between themselves and their predators. 

 

The white walls transform into gray and the air gets damper. Wherever they were going, it was definitely not up. Just as Clarke was about to open her mouth to question Marty’s path, they reach a different exit. It’s a large opening that leads to a stairwell and on the wall beside the entrance is a red button labeled “LOCKDOWN” that is undoubtedly used to seal the door shut. The corridor that leads up to the door is sealed off. No more corridors along the sides. They’ll make it this time. 

 

The distance between them and the exit decreases steadily and Clarke thinks that if they don’t get there soon, she’ll die of exhaustion. She’s at a point where she can’t decide whether her legs or her lungs burn more. 

 

100 feet…

 

90 feet…

 

Each painful step feels like her muscles are ripping apart, but she pushes on. Behind her she hears Lexa’s ragged breaths, reminding her of how close they were to freedom. 

 

80…

 

Marty stumbles, but rights himself almost immediately. Their pace is slowing. 

 

70…

 

60…

 

50…

 

They manage to make it to 40 feet when…

 

BANG!

 

Clarke feels it in her heart before she hears the cry. 

 

“LEXA!” She whips around so fast that she sees black dots swimming in her vision.

 

Lexa’s clutching her leg, blood steadily gushing from the wound. Coating her hands, dripping onto the white floor. Red, red, red.

 

“No, no.” Clarke sinks to her knees beside her. “Don’t move. Don’t-”

 

She moves to help her but Lexa catches her wrist and pushes her hand back. “No.”

 

The footsteps grow louder. 

 

“Don’t shoot! Alive!”

 

“Lexa. Lexa, please.” Her trembling hands go up to cup Lexa’s face despite her previous rejections. “Get up. You have to try. You can’t give up now.”

 

“Stairs, Clarke. I can’t-”

 

“NO! Marty will carry you! DON’T YOU DARE GIVE UP!”

 

Lexa’s green eyes look up at hers and Clarke watches as she swallows hard. Slender fingers grip her wrists. “I’m not.”

 

Lexa’s chest is heaving and her blood is pouring out at an alarmingly fast. She’s sitting on the ground with jaw clenched tightly in pain and Clarke is right there with her. They’ve spent so many days hating each other, unnecessarily, Clarke thinks. If only one of them had just been brave enough to let go of their fear, anger, and their petty feud, they would’ve had so much more time. It’s so unfair sometimes, that fate had them meet and fall in love, but not let them understand it, accept it, act out on it. And then when it finally does take pity on them, it’s already too late. Clarke thinks that if she could get a chance to do it all over, she would have been braver.

 

Lexa lets out a low groan and the guards are flying down the hall. 

 

“Okay, okay.” Clarke murmurs, scooting closer. “It’s fine, we’ll find another chance. I’m here, Lexa. I’m not going to leave you.”

 

Lexa lets out a shuddering breath at her words, but maybe its because of the physical exertion and pain. Her face is paling at an alarming rate as she looks down at the open wound. There’s so much anguish in her eyes when she looks back up at Clarke… no… not at Clarke. Past her. 

 

“I know. I’m sorry.”

 

“What?” Clarke furrows her brows in confusion. Lexa’s lips press together and her eyes tighten marginally. The change is so tiny that Clarke would have missed it if she wasn’t already so focused on her. Two strong arms wrap around her waist and haul her off the floor. 

 

Even as he grunts in pain and digs his fingers into her arm painfully, Marty’s far too strong for Clarke to escape.

 

“NO!” She yells, hammering against his back and wriggling her body. “Put me down!”

 

His grip is as strong as iron. Half dragging, half pushing their bodies past the red dashed line and into the stairwell, Marty slams a hand on the plastic button hanging on the control panel. Clarke hardly notices. Her gaze is trained on the girl crouched over her wound on the ground just twenty feet away. But it’s twenty feet too far and the door is closing. 

 

“LEXA!” She screeches, ignoring the way pain tears through her throat. “Please Marty, please. Put me down. Put me down, Marty, please.”

 

She’s not above begging at this point and her vision blurs as hot tears pour down her cheeks. She wipes at them in frustration and bangs her fists down once more on Marty’s back. “LEXA!”

 

Lexa gives her a small, sad smile, hands visibly trembling from where they were wrapped around  her wound. “It’ll be alright.”

 

Clarke reads it off her lips rather than hears it because just then the guards start shouting. There’s more of them coming.

 

“It’s not!” She screams, barely able to drag oxygen into her lungs. “It’s not, Lexa!”

 

A guard seizes Lexa’s arm and the force snaps her backwards. 

 

“IT’S NOT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!”

 

Clarke sees the moment that the facade shatters. The calm look and brave face that she put on for Clarke breaks and the hardness in her emerald eyes fades. Two trails of tears slide down Lexa’s cheeks and Clarke has never seen anything so sad. A guard in front aims his gun at them but Marty spins away. It’s fine anyways because the door is already closing and the bullets hit the metal with a thwack. The thick metal slides to the ground almost soundlessly and the shouting, chaos, and Lexa disappear. 

**Author's Note:**

> leave me some comments :)


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